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Chapter Text

Six couples, six marriages: can they find love at first sight?

Our experts, Héderváry Erzsébet, Ludwig Beilschmidt, and Matthias Køhler, paired the most compatible candidates and are confident in their choices and ready to intervene and guide the couples towards a brilliant marriage.

Follow our host Laura Janssens on the most anticipated search for love on television: Married at First Sight.

Arthur makes a face at the commercial, as two of the couples happily vouch for the show, yet finds himself enthralled by their enthusiasm and can't stop watching.

The guy named Feliks sounds happy as his partner looks at him with the most smitten stare on his face. They were the first same-sex couple on the show, and Arthur secretly watched it all. The couple had their ups and downs, but decided to stick around, and after two years are still together. It seems the experts, whoever they are (because only one is a therapist, the woman being an expert of some kind of personality thing, the other man a Danish celebrity who Arthur thinks is only there to increase the views), know what they're doing.

He looks at Alfred playing with his Legos on the ground like a big kid, not the teen that he is, then at his messy kitchen and empty house, and feels a pang of loneliness.

This is stupid; he's young, fit, and quite capable of getting a date, isn't he?

No.

He's a little off-putting, blunt, guarded and too busy and preoccupied to even try to meet someone and date. He doesn't want to make Alfred meet someone only to get attached and watch them leave. Speaking of, why is Alfred so silent?

Arthur drops the towel he was wringing on his hands and looks around in search of his little tall terror, and here he is on the phone.

“Alfred! What have I told you about using the phone without me? Who are you even calling this time? Will I have a cosmic bill for someone in Korea again, mister?” Arthur narrows his eyes at him and Alfred keeps ignoring him.

“No, it's for my dad. He's lonely, and I really want—oh, he's here; I'll hand him the phone.” Alfred says, then almost shoves the phone on his chest with a strength that surprises him.

“What's this?”

“It's for you. Answer.” Alfred presses and cautiously he places the holder on his ear.

“Hello?”

“Eh, am I talking to an adult this time?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Ah good, I'm Carlos from Married at First Sight. We would love to have you here, but we do need proper information to enrol your participation.”

“What?”

“Please, please! I saw you watching that show, and I want to be on TV. My friends will be so jealous!” Alfred begs, and he gives a sigh and thinks that it's not as if they'll call him or anything, so he gives them his information, replies to some questions, and proceeds to think about Alfred's punishment.

Teenagers are indeed a handful.

.

Gilbert laughs, shows him a squiggly paper where he noted down the information, and Francis turns to Antonio, who's looking a little mischievous himself. 

He's not very sure what to think, but maybe it's not a bad idea to enroll in this program. He's seen all the seasons, loves weddings, and he surely would love to meet someone and fall in love, but isn't it a little strange to meet someone through a television show instead of meeting them across a room, their eyes meeting, their hearts speeding up as they feel a pull that brings them together?

“Where did this come from?” Francis curiously asks, shaking himself off his daydream, and Gilbert immediately makes a fake stern expression.

“You're not getting laid. It's sad.”

“It's been months since you had someone.” Antonio agrees, and he blinks and thinks about it, and surely it hasn't been that long, has it?

There was the chef, but that was two years ago, and he can barely recall their love making. Oh, the pretty guy in the pub-wait, that was a disaster and they didn't even get to the good part. What about the florist lady who he took out to eat and ended up eating her out in the backrooms? No. That was after he was dumped by the German officer who Francis gave his number to prevent a speeding ticket.

Francis pales, realising that it's been almost a year and he didn't even notice, but he's been so busy with Matthieu and work lately, surely it's not as if he lost his touch.

He gives them a shrug and grins at them, just as mischievously trying to hide his nervousness.

“Okay. I'll be the best husband on the whole show!” Francis grins with a wink, and Gilbert’s face falls.

“Aren't you mad?”

“Why? This is the perfect opportunity to show off my work.” Francis admits, and Antonio nods enthusiastically as Gilbert grins.

“That's my Franny!”

.

Surprisingly, they are both called to participate in the program, Arthur perplexed and gloomy, Francis cheerfully happy.

They both speak to the specialists after signing several contracts, disclosure agreements and agreeing to begin right away. They have no time to prepare at all for the interviews and find themselves sitting on a couch as the host talks with them privately on different days but following the same motions.

“Can you speak a little about yourself, Mr. Kirkland?” Laura Janssens, the beautiful ex-model and actress who hosts the program, asks, and he nods, his arms crossing and eyebrows furrowing in thought.

“I suppose I'm not very skilled at such things…”

“Just present yourself to our viewers. Your name, age, what you do, and such.”

“Well, I'm Arthur. I am a teacher at London Academy in Edgware. I’m thirty-three years old and have a son named Alfred after our first king.” Arthur says after clearing his throat, looking quite smug and pleased with the information he revealed, and Laura blinks at him, expecting more information, but he keeps watching her formally, and she clears her throat.

“Do you enjoy history?” She presses, and he nods.

“Yes, I consider myself a scholar, and it's also my area of expertise.”

“Could you tell us more about your hobbies or perhaps things you enjoy? Arthur looks down in thought, shifts a little, and finally replies.

“I like reading, embroidery, cooking, gardening, and being with my son. Lately he's been more interested in video games, so I'm trying to learn a little about them, but I can't move my fingers fast enough and always die. He finds it hilarious but it's becoming boring for him and I'm not sure if I can keep up… at least we have music to bond over… I guess...” he trails a little thoughtfully, and she blinks up at him as he waves her off despite her silence.

“Besides, I want him to have a good balanced life and not rely on technology too much, so we try to go camping once in a while, build him up a little, you know?” he asks, and she nods as he seems to realise where he is. Looking flustered, he becomes silent, and Laura can't really make him talk much more about himself.

Meanwhile, Francis has no issues talking about himself.

“I am Francis Bonnefoy; yes, I’m French and living here in London at the moment. I have a boutique called Beautiful Moments, and I design all the clothing and make sure that it's the best outfit for all the memorable moments of life.” Francis says with a wink, and Laura chuckles at him, just as charmingly as Francis.

“I am thirty-four and have a son called Matthieu. He's the most beautiful boy and my pride and joy. He's very smart, caring, thoughtful, and skilled, and the other day he made me pancakes because he wanted to surprise me. Isn't he the cutest mignon ?” Francis continues to gush about his son for a long time, making the crew speed up his ramblings, as Laura laughs and, amused, stares at the camera redirecting the conversation once more.

“Well, I suppose I am a lover of life, or rather everything that makes life worth living, you know? Beauty, passion, connection. They are after all the essence of existence, non? To create, to feel, and to love!”

“I see, and what are your hobbies, Mr.Bonnefoy?” She asks and he waves her off.

“Please, just Francis. You make me feel old.” he chuckles and she nods.

“I love cooking; it's a whole experience, and I often host dinners at home for my friends. I find that meals are the best bonding experience of all, and it never fails to interest a person. After all, full belly, happy heart, isn't it?” he chuckles and she nods in agreement.

“You are indeed a very interesting man, but what are some of your flaws?” she presses and he touches his chin with a finger in thought.

“I am prideful, with moments of stubbornness, and perhaps naiveté, but I do know life can be quite cruel. Still, I truly believe in life, and even if my actions falter, my heart is true. Listen to me waxing poetics again, forgive me. I suppose I would like to find someone to enjoy life with me. Life is fleeting, and I simply want to make it worthwhile.” he says and even the host seems a little infatuated by his charms.

The next interview is made by the personality coach Héderváry Erzsébet, who asks several questions about them, their way of thinking and acting, their goals and values, and nods to herself while keeping the conversation light.

“What are some of the difficulties you face in life, Mr. Kirkland?” she asks, looking incredibly interested by his closed off posture and expressionless face.

“I think I'm a little difficult… I prefer to be alone most of the time…” he says with some weariness and self-awareness, and she nods at him with an earnest expression as he struggles to sit still. 

“I quite value my independence, but there are moments—fleeting, mind you—that I would like to have someone who won't leave, you know? I'm very responsible, and although I may look like I don't care, I find that I care a lot about the people I hold close to me. I would give my life for my son without question, but I find that I would also do it for my best friend and even my brothers if the need arose, not that they would care about it…” he looks gloomy at the thought then shrugs.

“I am a prideful man. It may be my biggest strength and flaw, actually. It keeps me going but also prevents me from asking for help when I need it the most, perhaps… bloody hell, I'm sounding like a sentimental fool, am I not?” 

“Not at all. I think that you are quite self-aware and capable. Those are good traits to have.” she says and he looks at her with something less indifferent in his face.

“I guess.”

“Do you feel like people don't take the time to see the real Arthur?” She presses with a soft voice and he shrugs.

“I think people only see the sharp parts of me, and I don't really expect people to really understand me, but I’m just like everyone else… at the end of the day, I want to give my son all the love and care and perhaps find someone to share the small parts of life I've always had to enjoy alone…”

Erzsébet looks very pleased with his words and smiles at him as he reddens and shifts in embarrassment.

Despite Erzsébet's progress with Arthur, Francis, despite his compliance and constant talk, is much harder to get to know, and she seems to thread a little more carefully to open him up.

“Would you say you're a giving person?” she asks and he shrugs, nonchalantly.

“We are all giving people. We want to love someone and see how our presence makes an impact on the other.”

“Not quite, Mr. Bonnefoy.”

“Well, we should. What is life without love? An empty vessel sailing through the sea of loneliness?” he asks and she perks up.

“Are you lonely, Francis?” she asks, using his name for the first time and he tenses up before giving a smile that holds something less cheerful.

“How could I be with my beautiful son and friends?”

She raises one eyebrow and he seems to deflate a little.

“Everyone wants to find someone to enjoy life with. Life can become dull if you're by yourself, but I wouldn't say lonely. I rarely have time for such with my son and work. I'm sure you understand how busy life can be.” he says and she nods at herself looking much more pleased than before.

The next specialist is the therapist, Ludwig Beilschmidt. He's a stoic man who intimidates both candidates a little, and unlike Erzsébet he finds that making Francis speak about himself, his job, and his beloved son, is useful as he keeps noting things down as he speaks.

“Non, non, you don't understand. I had to make that wedding dress from scratch and it had to please the bride, the mother of the bride, the maid of honour and they all wanted different things. Matthew was the true genius who said a ribbon would be cute and he solved the issue. I just put it all together. How he knew this would be a good solution I don't know but he's my life saver sometimes. He's so perceptive it's uncanny. I was not like him at all when I was a child.” Francis gushes looking very thoughtful and Ludwig gives a hint of a smile.

The problem is making Arthur, who looks uncomfortable, talk. Their conversation is stiff and awkward until the German asks about his son. Only then does Arthur open up, his expression softening as he speaks of his little terror, the joy of his life. Overall he doesn't say anything and the staff is unsure of what to show the public so they completely ignore the footage despite some jewels the crew add just for fun.

“He broke his foot and jumped on me like a tick!” Arthur says in bafflement as if that single fact still haunts him. “I swear I don't have a clue where he got all that energy from, but I know his bad behaviour is all from my brothers. I was a delightful child.”

.

Matthias Køhler is the celebrity and as such is in charge of the honeymoon, the spots, and experiences and finds himself speaking about several things with Arthur, who quite enjoys exploring and getting dirty but has to tone it down with Francis, who, while enjoying sports and not minding extreme experiences, hates the idea of being somewhere without his amenities and comforts.

“I need my bathroom and my hair products, and I hate bugs. Last year I found Matthieu in the middle of a mud puddle playing with worms. Worms.” He stresses with a despairing face, and Matthias blinks as he drapes himself on the chair and holds his chest. “I had to grab them with my bare hands. It was traumatic. I still have nightmares about them eating mon petit fil.” He sniffs dramatically, and Matthias can't help looking at the camera, breaking the fourth wall because the boy is not little, and it surely is an exaggeration.

“I would like to see Turkish fabrics. I wouldn't say no to a Bahamas vacation either, I'm too pale nowadays and I miss a good day of doing nothing and swimming in the sea. Oh, somewhere with a spa, maybe I could be rather intimate with my partner in such a place, no?” Francis says with a leer.

Arthur's replies are very different and Matthias looks almost deviously pleased by them.

“I would rather be in some cold place and explore the natural beauty of the world. Norway perhaps. I would also enjoy Romania. There's a magical route I've read about in a book about medieval dark magic and vampiric forces that's connected to Dracula's castle.” Arthur says looking happy for the first time.

Nevertheless, they are both called again and again and soon receive the confirmation call with some surprise and shock.

“Oh, of course I'll be there. Merci.” Francis says and before anything else he loudly calls Matthieu to give him the grand news.

“Matthieu! Papa is going to marry!”

While Francis becomes really enthusiastic about the show, preparing his best outfits and preparing everything as soon as he's called, much to his son's horror, Arthur despairs, holding his head in his hands and blaming Alfred for this situation.

“I'm not going to expose myself on television! I am a respected member of the academy. I have a reputation, and this is all Alfred's fault!” Arthur bemoans, and Kiku Honda tilts his head with impassive dark eyes.

“Wouldn't it be a good opportunity to get out of your comfort zone? You keep complaining about being stuck in a rut, and if I may say so, you are lonely.” Kiku says, and Arthur nods, looking up at him.

“The honeymoon is usually in a nice place. I could go to Greece, Romania or Norway.” Arthur reasons, and Kiku gives a hint of a smile.

.

The crew surrounds Arthur as he tells Kiku the news, and while it's all fake because Kiku already knew, Arthur thinks that it's interesting to do this thing twice and get the same reaction. Kiku nods, congratulates him, and Arthur asks him to be the godfather, making Kiku give him the biggest déjà vu because even his solemn expression is the same.

“I would be honoured.” Kiku bows.

Arthur feels a little lonely at these moments. His family doesn't get along; he only has one single friend, a kid, and won't have anyone else for him in the wedding. The thought makes him gloomy and uncomfortable because now everyone will know how miserable he truly is. He hopes the other person won't see it as a reflection of him, but he knows he will and will probably judge him, dislike him, and it will be awful.

His mood sours, and he regrets agreeing to do this even if Alfred has been really excited about it all.

“You think you are ready for this?” Kiku asks, breaking his thoughts, and he nods, deeply unsure but refusing to show it.

“Yes.”

“Arthur, I trust you, but are you thinking about yourself in this?” Kiku presses, and he swallows hard and gives a small shrug that's more telling than anything else.

“Of course. It would be nice to have someone by my side for once.”

“That doesn't sound very convincing.” Kiku presses, and he lashes out in defensive anger and embarrassment.

“Want me to say that I will fall madly in love? You know that's stupid. Real life doesn't work like that.”

“You could give the other person a chance.” Kiku states, and he nods because he will. If he's already here, he's willing to at least see where it goes and try to make it work. If it doesn't, it's okay; he doesn't have high hopes anyway.

“Maybe.”

“I'd like you to be happy for once.” Kiku says in an uncharacteristic display of emotion, despite his closed expression, and Arthur finds himself touched and reddening against his will.

“Thank you.”

.

The three friends are gathering in Francis' house, several snacks and beers, or wine, on the table, and Antonio has an arm around Francis' shoulder in curious happiness.

“Are you really doing it?”

“Oui! And we'll fall madly in love and—"

“Yeah, right.” Gilbert interrupts.

“Don't be so cynical, Gil. They matched us, so there is a chance that they're perfect for me.” Francis says, looking very optimistic and confident, and Antonio nods at him before disentangling and grabbing a beer.

“I agree that this is promising.”

“See?” Francis looks at Gilbert with teasing arrogance.

“Fine. I know this was my idea, but I just don't want to see you hurt…” Gilbert admits, and Francis jumps on him and hugs him.

“Awww, he's worried for me.”

“He'll be fine, and he will finally stop barging into our houses unannounced.” Antonio points out and Francis pouts, letting his whole body drop onto Gilbert, who doesn't look concerned with his lack of personal space.

“I didn't know you had company!”

“At least you could have left!” Antonio says with a grin, and Francis makes a face.

“I had ice cream! It would melt!”

“He slapped me and thought I was cheating with you.” Antonio looks a little peeved now, and Francis raises himself in a defensive posture, his arms raised.

“I spoke to him and cleared the misunderstanding.”

“You proposed a threesome.” Antonio exasperatedly says, and Francis shrugs with a grin.

“Two out of three were naked, and I was sad. It was a unique opportunity.”

Antonio laughs despite his annoyance, and Gil interrupts them before they continue their argument.

“Hey, will you finally marry dressed like you wanted?

Francis nods clapping his hands in delight and Antonio's expression shifts into shock.

“Really? Are you doing that on television?” Antonio asks as Francis' smile becomes sinister, and Gilbert starts cackling so hard he trips and almost falls down.

.

Several couples go through the same motions, and the specialists look a little concerned at what they saw from all the couples before Matthias looks at Erzsébet.

“These two look promising.”

“Yes. They are the most compatible couple but also the most different. I do understand why Ludwig vouched for them, but this could either be very good or very bad depending on how open they truly are to the experience.” Erzsébet explains to the audience, and Matthias nods with a big grin.

“It will be a blast either way.” 

Chapter Text

Last week we met some of our couples, but this week they'll see each other for the first time.

Let's see how it goes, shall we?

The specialists are gathering in a round table reminiscent of a conference room, and they hold several pictures in front of them as they argue about the future matches, their compatibility, and weigh in on the pros and cons of bringing them together.

Until now the pairings have been easy to make, but some prove themselves harder than others.

“This pair is one of those pairs that don't seem to make much sense at first but could be surprising.” Erzsébet says, and Matthias hums, tilting his head side to side.

“That is if they don't get stuck on first impressions. British boy there is not very amicable at first glance.”

“I don't know, Arthur seems truly interested in finding a companion, and that one… seems not to care but is very invested in finding true love.” She points out as Matthias makes a face.

“Yes, but that one longs for a timeless love, something out of story tales that builds him up and breaks him forever. That's not realistic, and that will certainly clash with Arthur's more pragmatic and down-to-earth way of seeing life. I propose the Greek. They are compatible too, right?” Matthias asks, and Erzsébet nods.

“With work, anyone can be compatible; I just worry that Francis is too much for Arthur.”

“What do you think, Ludwig?” Matthias asks, looking bored already.

“Francis.” Ludwig firmly says, and they look at him curiously because it's the first word he has said since they have begun talking about this match.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Erzsébet and Matthias trade a look, but Ludwig seems sure despite not giving an explanation, and with this ominous certainty, the show carries on.

.

Laura follows several brides and grooms throughout the difficult talk of finding the perfect dress or suit, but even she becomes a little worried when, after the first suit, Francis looks displeased and ready to give up.

“Non. This won't do...” He murmurs, his long golden hair waving with the motion, and Laura looks at the two friends who came with him to choose the suit, Antonio and Gilbert.

“The black brings out your eyes.” Antonio tries, and Gilbert winces as Francis makes a pose and points at his crotch.

“Look at this seam! And I can barely sit down. I want movement, flow. A suit doesn't make you feel unique on your special day.” He says with grand gestures, and Gilbert becomes excited with him as Antonio checks his ass and nods in agreement.

“I wouldn't fit there either.”

“I told you I'd try, and I did.“ Francis shrugs, “Now, I know exactly what we need. Come along.” 

“That's fair.” Antonio says, and Francis immediately begins stripping in front of everyone as he moves towards the fitting room once again.

Surprisingly enough, Francis doesn't go to his own boutique as everyone expected. He leaves the suit store and enters a wedding dress store next to the one they were with brisk steps, making the whole crew follow him as his two friends follow along, making it clear that they are on a mission.

“I think blue would fit your complexion.” Antonio says, and Gilbert shakes his head.

“No, he's a traditional guy deep down; perhaps a champagne color would fit better since he's pretty pasty these days.” he grins.

“Think of the shoes, Gil. He hates those colors for shoes. Don't you remember the big beige debacle three years ago?” he asks, and Gilbert gives a solemn nod.

“Summer dresses will never be the same again.”

“Is he going to wear a dress?” Laura asks, and they grin at her as Francis immediately begins talking with the receptionist and asking questions about their fabrics, the quality of the stitching, and all sorts of things that even the receptionist needs to check before answering.

The crew tries to get Francis' friends thoughts on that particular subject, but Gilbert laughs, as Antonio only shrugs his shoulders.

“The only thing I'm surprised about is him wearing something that's not his creation.” Antonio shrugs as Gilbert gives a thumbs up behind him.

.

Arthur's suit hunt is less eventful. He looks quite calm as his son helps him pick a suit, but unfortunately, Alfred only picks weird suits, and Arthur vetoes all the colorful ones, making Laura watch them as they keep discussing their choices.

“I'm not wearing red, Alfred.” Arthur's tone is becoming tired, but Alfred still sounds perky as he points out another suit.

“What about baby blue?”

“I would look like a pompous twat.” Arthur scoffs, and Alfred pouts, looking longingly at a baby blue suit.

“It's pretty.”

“Fine, I'll find a blue handkerchief to wear.” Arthur says, rolling his eyes, and Alfred looks up at him in excited interest.

“A Superman handkerchief?”

“I can embroider the symbol or something.” Arthur says, looking a little embarrassed, and Alfred grins.

“Cool.”

“Do you want one?” Arthur asks, looking a little hopeful, and Alfred waves him off, grabbing his phone, bored with the suit hunt.

“Nah, handkerchiefs are for old men.”

Arthur gives a long-suffering sigh and grabs a deep green suit before making a face and turning to the black conservative ones.

The specialists share a worried look at the footage but decide to not comment because the next couple has a bride who freaks out and slaps one of the bridesmaids, which is surely an audience grabber.

.

Francis steps behind the curtain, wearing a very tight peplum dress that has to be censored on the crotch for obvious reasons since this is prime time . Then he slowly makes his way to the mirror to see himself with a critical look on his face as he twists his nose at the mirror, clearly displeased.

“Are you sure about this one?” The host, Laura Janssens, asks as Antonio mockingly covers his eyes, and Gilbert pretends to hide his laughter without success.

“I can see your junk. Kseksekse.”

“Isn't that too … risqué?” Laura supplies looking a little baffled herself, and Francis looks at himself in the mirror with disappointment as he sighs.

“I liked this one, but you're right; I can deal with disguising my crotch but can't disguise my shoulders. I'd rather shave…” Francis says thoughtfully, and Antonio uncovers his eyes as he looks between Francis and Gilbert.

“He…. shaves?”

“Are you asking me?” Gilbert blinks and Antonio shrugs.

“I never saw him shaved…”

Gilbert blinks and makes a surprised sound.

“You're correct. Fran, are you shaving for the wedding?”

“Of course not.” Francis says with an offended expression before slipping inside the dressing room once again.

.

Arthur looks himself on the mirror as Alfred looks him over and makes a thumbs up looking vaguely bored.

“Tell me, Arthur, what are your expectations?” Laura asks, and he looks at her thoughtfully.

“I don't have many expectations. As long as he is respectful and treats my son well, it's fine.”

“If I recall, when asked about the ideal partner, you answered someone loyal, patient, and that makes you feel that you can trust them.” She says, and he reddens a little and nods as Alfred looks at them in interest.

“Yes, I guess.”

“He likes accents.” Alfred says, and Arthur reddens even more before giving his son a glare.

“What about physical appearance?” She prods with an easy smile, and Arthur rearranges the cufflinks in embarrassment.

“Oh, uh… I'm not picky.” 

“But if you could choose, isn't there anything you have a preference for? Perhaps height? Complexion? Hair color?” she prods.

“I guess someone who's fit doesn't hurt… and perhaps body hair… I like a man who quite looks like one.” He muses, looking away, and she gives a pleased smile to the camera as Alfred stands.

“I'm hungry. Can we go grab a bite?”

.

Antonio and Gilbert sit down sipping some champagne from glasses the shopkeeper gave them with Laura as Francis appears once again, this time with all his chest hair on full display, a straight-lined dress barely covering his nipples as the short dress flows.

The lower part looks very good, but Francis is clearly disappointed with the top as he pushes it up once again.

“I like the length and flow, but the cleavage is still a problem.” Francis murmurs, and Laura nods, seemingly more enthusiastic about the whole affair now that the first impact has passed.

“At least it's not the shoulders this time.” Antonio says as Gilbert nods.

“Or the crotch.”

“It's not just that; I feel that it lacks something.” Francis states, and Laura gives him a glance, looking a little worried.

“I always thought you'd go for those princess ones. The puffy things.” Gilbert says, and Antonio looks at him and whispers.

“I'm just surprised he didn't choose pink.”

Suddenly, Francis's face lights up, and he turns to them.

“Oh, that's it! Merci! Shelly, come with me.” He runs to the dressing room as their faces pale, and the poor shopkeeper hurried after Francis.

Thankfully he doesn't pick a pink dress but a beautiful long white dress that flows just like the one before but puffs out a little due to some sheer transparent layers and a low v-neck that shows off his chest. It also has two wide straps that disguise the shoulders nicely, and they all look at him in several degrees of shock because it truly fits him despite the obvious masculinity of his hairy chest and bearded chin.

“I'd like to tighten it up on the waist and loosen the straps and make the v-neck even lower to show my chest definition, but I think this is the one.” Francis says with a smile, and Laura nods.

“I hate to admit it, but he looks great.” the shopkeeper admits, looking relieved.

“Now that the dress is chosen, tell me, what kind of person do you expect to step up to the altar with you, Francis?” Laura asks, and he gives a long, exaggerated sigh.

“Someone who can appreciate life, beauty, and love. Someone passionate who sees and appreciates uniqueness. Oh, and I like dark-skinned men, but I'm open to anyone with a cute face.” His smile turns mischievous, and she raises her eyebrow.

“Is physical appearance important to you?”

“Yes, men are visual, and those who say differently are lying.” he states, and Laura asks about the transformations on the dress as he pinches fabric and starts explaining how it will look when properly done.

As soon as he leaves, Laura steps to the rambunctious duo as they keep talking amongst themselves.

“Do you think he'll shave?” Gilbert asks, and Antonio looks unsure.

“You know he doesn't like shaving…”

“I only saw pictures; it's unfair!” Gilbert stomps, looking put out, and Laura steps to them with curiosity.

“Why doesn't he shave?”

“He used to look a little like a woman and is self-conscious about it.” Antonio explains, and Gilbert cackles, promising to give the show photos of Francis when they were younger and he truly looked like a girl.

Even the specialists laugh at it, and the duo provides pictures, not only of Francis as a younger boy but proof of his hairiness—Francis' hairy chest in his majestic glory as they lounge on the beach and full bush, in a rather inappropriate yet fully clothed picture of them next to Francis' hairy crotch in a thong, his trousers open enough to show it.

Surprisingly, Ludwig looks ashamed when the second picture appears, pressing two fingers to his eyes with a long exhale when he sees the last one.

“Are you okay?” Erzsébet asks, and he gives her a tired glance but doesn't answer.

.

Both Francis and Arthur ignore the bachelor party shenanigans, preferring something more intimate with close friends.

The specialists don't look very surprised, as the images show them having dinner with their closest friends and respective teenage kids.

Francis' event is more rambunctious but still a cozy affair where he cooks and entertains until it's Matthieu's time to sleep, and Ludwig smiles at this because Arthur's dinner with Kiku also followed the same motions despite the more subdued tone.

“Maybe it's not doomed after all.” Matthias says, and Ludwig turns to him.

“Their life goals are the same. They are above all caring parents who want to give their sons the best. I am very confident they can provide each other with what they're lacking right now.”

“I also believe this is a great match. Francis provides warmth and affection, and Arthur stability and dedication. They will have many issues, but with our help, they can become one of our best successes.” Erzsébet says with a reassuring smile.

Matthias doesn't look convinced but doesn't comment, and the rest of the show focuses on other couples.

.

All couples are prodded into talking about their family, past, and childhood. Francis and Arthur don't offer much, so it's Ludwig who has to prod and try to get some information, which Francis ends up doing after long tangents about several things that have no relation to the show.

“We were always moving from place to place, but it was fine. I always had everything I needed.” Francis says, his posture a little more closed off than his usual flamboyance, and Ludwig looks at him intently.

“That's a little unique.”

“I like being different.” Francis winks.

“Did other people see you as different?” Ludwig's voice is exactly the same as before, but his pen moves as Francis gives a small shrug.

“People are often misunderstood when they're different from what is considered normal. Artists, poets, lovers—they all suffer from society's ignorance.”

“I imagine that was painful.” Ludwig tilts his head, and Francis gives a big smile as he waves his hand.

“Pain is what makes people real. If you’ve never suffered, you’ve never lived.”

Ludwig doesn't prod for more, and it cuts to Arthur, who looks ready to bolt out of the door.

“I guess you can say that my home was quite chaotic, and I didn't quite fit in there.” Arthur states.

“Why?”

Arthur becomes silent, and after a long silence between them, raises his shoulders and looks away, shutting down completely.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Ludwig says, and he seems to breathe a little bit better.

.

The wedding day is here, and even the weather seems to agree with it, creating a rather sunny background in the outdoor backyard that has a makeshift altar where the families and friends already wait for the grooms.

On Francis' side, you can see both of his friends with their respective dates, who seem to be auburn-haired twins, a young lady that resembles Francis, an empty seat by her side probably meant for Matthieu, and an older woman by its side who closely resembles Francis, with lush wavy hair, a slender frame, and a softness that betrays her age.

On Arthur's side, there is a petite Japanese man sitting by an empty chair that surely belongs to Alfred and another dark-haired man who has a vague resemblance to Antonio.

As soon as Antonio and this man meet, they whisper to each other, and Antonio starts laughing, but then he sits with a grin by one of the twins' sides.

Laura enters in a beautiful pink dress, her hair up and bright smile catching everyone's attention as she starts speaking with the families, Francis's side of the room much easier to talk with than Arthur's, who seem to prefer to stick to themselves as they watch them talk.

Inside the dressing room, Arthur's face is blank as he looks at the mirror, and Alfred explains to the cameras what's happening.

“Yeah, it's like the four time he asks himself what he's doing with his life in front of the mirror.”

“Fourth, Al. It's the fourth, and I'm fine.” He breathes, seemingly less distant, hands shaking as he rearranges the collar and grabs the comb to try to reduce the damage he has done to his disheveled hair.

“Do you think I can keep the gift? You already have many keychains.” Alfred asks, and Arthur absently nods before looking at him with a frown.

“What gift?”

“The one your husband gave you. It's on the table. A letter with fancy writing and all.” He states, and Arthur's eyes widen.

“Let me see that. I forgot this part.” he murmurs to himself.

On the basket there is a small Eiffel Tower, a small rose made of a beautiful red fabric next to a simple card that says , ‘I am sure you are kind, but I hope you like kids and allow me to make your life a beautiful journey towards something unforgettable .’

Arthur's lips curl a little upwards as he reads the note, a small heart as a signature, then his expression shifts once again as he looks at nothing and pales.

“Oh, fuck me! How do I always end up in weird situations?” He loudly whispers as Alfred pats his shoulder.

“You have to put five cents in the swear jar, Dad.”

.

Francis looks enthusiastic as he speaks with Matthieu, his hands moving as he talks about how he hopes the wedding goes and where he'd like to go with his husband, but Matthieu doesn't seem to share his enthusiasm as he stays by his side, looking a little subdued.

“Papa, you're making it worse.” Matthieu ends up saying, but Francis barely acknowledges him as he keeps speaking because despite his enthusiasm, his hands keep rearranging his long hair and dress, betraying his nervousness.

“And if he is mean to you, you tell me right away! Not like with Jake, okay? I need to know you are comfortable, and why is my hair so strange today of all days? Hand me the brush again.”

“Papa…”

“Non, non, I can fix it. Papa can fix it. This will be good, non? You don't mind staying with Aunt Marion, do you?” He looks at Matthieu, who shakes his head.

“Good, I'm always available. I'll have my phone with me all the time if you need anything.” he seriously says, and Matthieu nods.

“I know.”

Listening to that, he turns to Matthieu, and his eyes widen.

“You will miss me, won't you?” He asks, and his eyes look shiny for a brief moment.

“Of course, papa.” Matthieu says, and he hugs him.

“Oh, ma vie , I'll miss you so much. Are you sure I can't sneak you inside a bag and take you with me?” he dramatically bemoans, and Matthieu looks around as if searching for a way out of the tight hug.

“What's that, papa?” he asks, and Francis lets him go, looking at the table where a vase of some mysterious flower sits.

“Oh, it's for me!” Francis grins, grabbing the letter on its side, and calls Matthieu to see it too.

“This is sweet.” He murmurs with a smile, and Matthieu's eyebrows raise when he sees messy handwriting saying, ‘If you make dad laugh, we're cool; if not…’ It trails into unintelligible scribbles.

Underneath, in a much more legible handwriting, the note properly begins.

‘I'm sorry, my son wanted to write something for you, and I had no idea what it was. He's a good lad, I promise. I hope you don't mind children and intend to create a successful partnership no matter the outcome of the show . Until then, A. Kirkland ’

Francis smiles, looking a little charmed, and Matthieu frowns.

“Seems forced.” He says, crossing his arms, and Francis touches the flower's leaves.

“But tentative… maybe they're shy. I like shy people.”

Matthieu makes a face, and Francis' eyes widen.

“Oh, you'll have a brother! How wonderful!” He beams, and Matthieu looks horrified.

.

Arthur is the first to walk down the aisle. He walks with a straight back and measured steps as his son grins at everyone around them, clearly loving the attention.

Arthur barely reaches the altar when he looks around, looking quite nervous, his throat swallowing hard, his eyes shifting directly into his side, looking for Kiku’s and João’s supportive gazes, and only then he listens to laughter.

Laura seems visibly surprised too as both Antonio and Gilbert grab each other and keep snickering like kids, and Arthur glares at them as João goes to his side.

“All good?”

“Fine. Thank you for being here, João.” Arthur says with a nod, and João makes a notion towards the duo who are trying to look unsuspicious but failing at it.

“Do you know Carriedo and his friend?”

“No? I mean, their faces tell me something, but I don't quite remember where I know them from.” He murmurs, grabbing a handkerchief and cleaning his forehead, and João shrugs.

“They’re missing one, so maybe the wedding is not ruined.”

“What do you mean by that?” Arthur asks, wide-eyed, looking around in search of a maniac with a hatchet or something equally bad.

“Oh, they're fun, just a little over the top, don't worry. I think everyone's here.” João says, and he nods, clearly trying to calm down.

“Right.”

It's at that moment that Laura goes to Arthur's side and creates a bridge between the two sides.

“How are you feeling, Arthur?”

“Fine.”

She smiles and gives Alfred a handshake as he smiles at her.

“Did you know the other groom has a son of your age?” She asks, and Alfred beams.

“Really? Where is he? What does he look like? Can I meet him?” He asks at once, and she laughs.

“I'm sure you'll have time to do that after the wedding.” She smiles, and Alfred nods seriously.

“I have a ring. It's the best job.”

“Best man's job.” Arthur automatically corrects, and she looks at him.

“How do you feel about another son?”

“Fine. Alfred always wanted a little brother.” Arthur says, looking less haggard, and Alfred nods.

“Have you already talked with the other husband’s family?” she asks, and Arthur shakes his head.

“Then let's introduce you. Arthur, this is the husband's sister, Marion, and his mother, Marianne.” She shows, and Arthur gives a stiff nod.

“Pleasure.” The sister keeps looking at him as if she would rather be anywhere else, and the mother gives him a look from head to toe that makes him straighten himself up.

“If he's anything like them, he's surely a catch.” Laura teases, and he gives another stiff nod.

“Okay, do you want to ask them anything?” she tries once more, and he shakes his head, clearly uncomfortable.

“Does the mother or sister want to ask something?”

“Where is your family?” the mother asks, and he swallows and looks down.

“My brothers couldn't come.”

“But he brought his childhood friend and best friend.” Laura says, and they both nod, looking a little displeased.

“And me. I'm Alfred, your new son-in-law. Pleased to meet you.” He presents himself, walking to them and shaking their hands, and both women give a small smile, the mother looking much more pleased with this.

“So, do you like blondes?” Gilbert asks before Laura even proceeds to present the rest of the invited parties, and Arthur frowns.

“I… guess.” He murmurs, and Antonio snickers as his date gives him a small punch.

“But it is so funny, Lovi.” He giggles.

“Yeah, you do. Bathrooms too, don't you?” Gilbert wiggles his eyebrows, and Arthur's face reddens as he frowns at them.

“That's too obvious!” Antonio loudly whispers, and the footage turns to the specialists who are watching in confusion.

“Do they know each other?” Erzsébet asks, and Ludwig presses a hand to his face.

“I swear I didn't know.”

“What are you talking about?” Matthias asks, and he looks at them, looking very tired.

“That's my brother. He registered his friend Francis, but I swear I didn't know he already knew Arthur.” Ludwig says, and Erzsébet gasps.

“The smiling twin is your husband, isn't he?” She asks, and he nods.

“You should've gone to the wedding too.” Matthias teases, and he gives him a long look.

“I have nothing to do with my brother's antics.”

“That is okay. So they know each other; perhaps this is the second chance they need.” Erzsébet says, and Matthias laughs.

“I bet they already hate each other.”

Ludwig simply shakes his head.

.

The moment is here.

Arthur is looking towards the priest, waiting for Francis to walk down the aisle, and they all look expectant as Francis finally shows himself, with Matthieu by his side.

Francis's dress fits him wonderfully, his chest visible and accentuated by the open v-neck, showing the definition he wanted and making it an attractive sight; below the puffy layers of the dress fall to the ground as he moves, making his hips wider, and his long hair is perfectly curled to fall into his shoulders, his long lashes moving as he blinks at them with a small nervous smile. He's clearly a man, but at the same time he wears the dress as not many women could, and both sides look at him as he waves at his friends who catcall him enthusiastically.

From Arthur's side, both Kiku and João are open-mouthed, looking worried, and Alfred is frowning, a little confused.

The moment Francis reaches Arthur, he seems to hesitate before giving a kiss to his son, and only then he stands by Arthur's side, Francis a little bit taller than Arthur.

Arthur's response is immediate. The moment he feels fabric touching his legs, he looks down and takes one step back, looking at the dress in surprise, and then he looks up, and both of them gape in horror.

“You?” Francis gasps as Arthur gives a groan.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Everyone is looking at them as they face each other, Arthur looking quite pale as Francis narrows his eyes, and then, as if remembering where he is, Francis is the first to recover.

“Are you going to give me a warning this time?” he murmurs, crossing his arms and looking towards the priest, and Arthur licks his lips and stands stiffly by his side once again.

“I was sick. I didn't know.”

“You made me sick.” Francis sniffs, and when Arthur looks away, embarrassed, he adds, “and my son.”

“Sorry.” He murmurs, and the silence between them is heavy as even the families look towards each other in confusion.

“It seems God is giving you a second chance.” Francis says after that heavy moment of silence, and the priest clears his throat.

“Are we to proceed?”

They share a glance, and Arthur looks at Francis' dress once again, making Francis puff his chest, which leads to Arthur looking at his chest and reddening.

“Why a dress?” he asks, looking away from Francis' chest, and Francis frowns.

“Why not?”

They look at each other once more, Francis challenging, Arthur a little cautiously, then both nod and speak at the same time.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

.

Before the marriage, Laura grabbed both Antonio and Gilbert to know what was happening, and it's with immense glee that they tell her everything.

“They met a while ago in Scotland and hooked up in the pub's bathroom.” Gilbert laughs as Antonio nods.

“They went somewhere together, but in the morning Francis was wrecked.”

“Not in a good way.” Gil grins, and Antonio sobers up.

“I would be too if someone gave me gastroenteritis.”

“They didn't even get to it. Biggest blue balls in history from what Francis told us.” Gilbert cackles, and Laura looks at them wide-eyed.

.

The specialists look at each other; both Matthias's and Erzsébet's mouths open as Ludwig frowns, looking thoughtfully.

“What did you bet, Matthias?” Erzsébet asks, and he gives a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Nothing. I'm so glad I stopped gambling.”

.

The ceremony is beautiful, both Francis and Arthur looking a little more calm and subdued as the priest keeps talking.

“We stand here today in the presence of love—not the love that has grown over years, but the love that might be, the love that begins today.

For some, marriage is the culmination of a long journey. For you, it is the first step into the unknown. You do not yet know each other, how you will fight, or how you will forgive, but what you do know is this:

You have chosen to take a chance.”

Francis gives a smile at this, and Arthur's shoulders sag a little as he watches the man speak.

“Love is not always built on certainty—it is built on choice. And today, you choose to step forward, to trust a stranger with your heart, and to let this moment be the start of something neither of you could have predicted.

So, before you exchange vows, I ask you this: Do you promise, not to be perfect, but to be present? Do you promise not to hold back out of fear, but to step forward with courage—whatever that may look like?” he asks, and Francis immediately replies yes as Arthur nods, then gives a small yes, and only then their sons bring the rings, and the vows begin.

Francis and Arthur turn to each other, and Francis gives a smile, and Arthur immediately looks a little comforted by it, his eyes on his face as he grabs a paper but doesn't open it.

"This changes things a little bit, but the mystery remains. I don’t know your favorite song or what you dream about when the world is quiet.” He looks up at Arthur, and their eyes meet.

“I don’t know what makes you cry or what your laughter sounds like when you’ve forgotten to hold back, but I do know this—right now, in this moment, you are the most beautiful mystery I’ve ever wanted to solve.” He grins, and Arthur looks away, tightly holding his own paper.

“So I vow to learn you, piece by piece, like an unfinished poem waiting for its final lines, to meet you in the in-between, in the unspoken spaces where love is born, the loudest stages where you can barely listen to it, in the silences where it hides, and whether we are a fleeting story or an eternity, I will love you with all the reckless tenderness of a heart that refuses to hold back.” He finishes, and Feliciano is crying, Marion is smiling, and Lovino rubs his eyes as Antonio holds his shoulders, looking almost weepy.

Matthieu is the only one who looks troubled, but the images cut right away to Arthur, who hesitates before licking his lips.

“This is insane, isn’t it?” He asks, and Francis nods as Arthur clears his throat.

“I don’t know you. Not really. And that should terrify me. But for some reason, it doesn’t?” He rhetorically asks, and Francis gives him an expectant look as he looks to the sides towards Alfred, who is barely paying attention to them.

“You don't know me or my past, and I don't know yours, but… I promise to build trust where none exists yet and stand beside you in whatever future we create." he seems to hesitate for a moment and then seems to compose himself when Francis keeps smiling at him.

"Maybe I’ll regret this tomorrow, or maybe I won’t. But right now, I choose to take a step into the unknown. I choose you.”

Francis looks tearful, Arthur shy, and the priest looks at them.

“Before I pronounce you husband and husband, I have to read these. This is what each other's family wants you to know before you are one in the eyes of God.” the man says with humor, and they turn to him once again, Francis stepping a little closer to Arthur, who doesn't run away.

“So, Francis' family and friends want you, Arthur, to know that despite his looks and forceful behavior, he's very gentle and loyal, that he deserves to be cherished, and they will come after you if you don't fu—oh, I can't say this…” the priest clears his throat as he gives the audience a look, and Francis gives him an apologetic look.

“Moving on… Arthur's family wants you, Francis, to know that Arthur is stubborn and often rude, but he's kindhearted and needs to be loved. Treat him well, and you'll find a loyal and caring partner for life.” He smiles, and Arthur looks touched by his friend's words.

Francis looks at him searchingly before giving a small smile, then touches his hand as he shifts a little before allowing their hands to touch, and with that the priest pronounces them husband and husband, but they don't kiss because when Francis tries to plant a big smooch on Arthur's lips, he turns his head, looking wide-eyed.

“Gross.” Alfred murmurs, and everyone claps as Francis places his arms around Arthur's neck, looking very happy and waving at their audience.

Francis' friends immediately come to him and steal him, and João comes to Arthur and gives him an amused look.

“Fuck off, he's bloody handsome, okay?” Arthur grumbles, and Alfred demands attention because he's bored, and Matthieu is stolen by Laura.

The image shifts to the specialists as they watch in different stages of curiosity.

“It went better than I expected.” Matthias says, and they all nod.

.

Both Arthur and Francis stand side by side with a certain distance between them as Laura questions the surprising revelation.

“So you do know each other.”

“No.” Arthur immediately replies, and Francis gives him a pointed look.

“We met before.”

Arthur glares at him, then gives a long-suffering sigh.

“I've seen him before, but I don't know him. It was just that once and… bloody hell.” He murmurs, hiding his face under a hand as Francis looks positively evil.

“I went to a small pub with my friends, and this man puked all over my favorite blouse.”

Arthur makes a pitiful noise, looking embarrassed and ready to bolt, and Francis turns to him with narrowed eyes.

“Worse than that, he ran from me when I asked if he was okay. It was awful!” He crosses his expressive arms, and Arthur looks even more guilty.

"Good to see you sober for once.” Francis states, and he straightens.

“I was ill, not drunk.”

“I know, I got sick too, remember? Told just five minutes ago.” Francis states, and Arthur also crosses his arms, looking away.

“I apologized five minutes ago, remember?”

“I paid for the room and had to pay extra for the cleaning.” Francis sniffs, and Arthur clenches his teeth, looking angry.

“I panicked. Unlike what you think, I felt like shit for doing that.” Arthur admits, and Francis gives a sigh and gives him a less angry nod.

“That's just bad manners. I would have helped you at least go home.” Francis says, and he shrugs.

“Now that that's settled then, let's continue the marriage, shall we?” Laura asks, and they nod, following her as the families gather around the photographer.

“Did you have to wear a dress?” Arthur whispers, and Francis turns to him with a glare.

“Oui.”

Arthur gives him a look, making a face, and Francis stops walking.

“Don't I look beautiful?” He asks now, looking a little worried, and Arthur hesitates before looking embarrassed.

“It's a tad embarrassing, no?” he asks, and Francis gives a pout, crossing his arms once again.

“None of the last gay couples wore dresses, and I am sure half of them wanted to. There is no shame in dressing how you want when you want.”

Arthur’s eyebrows furrow, and he opens his mouth in perplexity.

“Are you trying to make a statement?” 

“Non.” Francis immediately says, then sighs, “I was not trying to. Clothes have no gender and…” Francis hesitates, his cheeks reddening as he looks down. “I always wanted to wear a wedding dress to my own wedding.”

Faced with the admission, Arthur's eyes widen, and he looks him over from head to toe as Francis shifts a little in place, looking quite sad.

“Well, it suits you, I guess.” He mutters, looking away, and Francis immediately perks up.

“Thank you.” He smiles and gives Arthur a once-over before mulling his words. “And I guess the gloomy funeral vibe suits you too.”

Arthur narrows his eyes, and Francis smiles wide before winking and grabbing his son, who was leaving Laura's side.

.

Laura is with Matthieu as they sit together a little far from the mingling husbands and family.

She looks at Matthieu with a small, encouraging smile as he shifts and looks away in embarrassment.

“How do you feel about your dad getting married?”

“Papa is happy.” He softly says, and she tilts her head.

“But I asked you, not Francis. Does it make you sad?”

“No.” He shakes his head a little more firmly, and she hums.

“Still, this is very different. It must be scary having new people in your life.” she smiles at him kindly, and he nods, looking down.

“Yes. It is.”

“What worries you, Matthieu?” She asks, and he looks where Arthur and Francis are speaking.

“He’ll leave and papa will be sad. I don't like when that happens…” he voices, and she places a hand on his shoulder.

“I'm sure everything will work out well.” She tries to reassure, but Matthieu's face is still visibly worried.

She also speaks with Alfred, but he's excited with the new family.

“There's a red-eyed man! And my new grandma doesn't want me to call her that and told me she would bake me treats if I call her aunty; isn't it cool?” He says, and she nods at his enthusiasm.

.

They're sent to take pictures right away, and it's an awkward affair because Francis loves the spotlight and Arthur doesn't and tries to get around it as much as he can.

“Can't I have my son with me?” Arthur asks after the second picture with Francis, a good distance between them.

“It's our wedding; come here.” Francis whines, and Arthur steps to him but still leaves a good distance.

“We're married, not recently divorced.” Francis states before grabbing Arthur’s arm and wrapping his arms around it.

Francis even places his head on his shoulder as he flushes dark red, and the photographer prods them into motion.

“Why don't we try to look more loving? A kiss perhaps?”

Francis gives a smile and immediately grabs Arthur by the waist and bends him down, making him give a loud squeak as Francis laughs in his face, and the photographer takes advantage to take a few pictures as Arthur struggles to push Francis away, looking both surprised and embarrassed.

“You're the fucking bride, not me!” he yells, and Francis places his arms on his waist. 

“Then obey me, husband, and take a good photo with me, or I will embarrass you in every single one of them.” He narrows his eyes, and Arthur narrows his own green eyes before standing straight once again.

They take one or two closely side by side, Francis's arm on his arm, and then suddenly Francis presses a kiss to Arthur's cheek, and he blushes before looking at him.

“I don't know what to do.” Arthur murmurs, looking as if the admission physically hurts him, and Francis shakes his head with a fond smile.

“Look at the camera and make a loving pose.”

Arthur makes a face at Francis, then looks at the photographer who's watching them silently.

Hesitantly, Arthur places a hand around Francis's waist and looks at the camera with a solemn expression, and Francis pouts as their picture is taken.

“This is not loving at all…”

“What do you propose?” Arthur asks, and Francis looks at him thoughtfully.

“Doves flying around us, loving gazes locked at each other, or the groom holding his bride as rose petals fall around them, and they kiss passionately. Have you never seen a wedding?” He asks, and before Arthur looks away, humming.

Before anyone can say anything else, and in a surprising gesture, Arthur grabs Francis under his knees and hoists him up with a grunt of effort, and Francis laughs, placing an arm around his neck.

“Oh, Dieu .” He giggles as their picture is taken, and when Francis recovers, he places a finger under Arthur's chin, making them look at each other.

“You're stronger than you look.”

“And you fatter.” Arthur points out, and Francis' scandalized look makes him grin as he lets him down.

“It's useless; the British don't know how to romance. I had such high hopes!” Francis huffs, and Arthur makes them stand straight and kisses his forehead as Francis quiets down, his cheeks reddening.

Arthur also looks embarrassed as he stands by his side, once again with a serious expression, and Francis smiles and holds his waist and lays his head on his shoulder. It's probably the best one.

The specialists smile as they look at the footage, and Erzsébet turns to the camera.

“While quite formal and defensive, Arthur has a wing 7 that gives him some playfulness and spontaneity.”

“I think the fact that he already knows Francis helps him loosen up, but I wouldn't count on those things happening many times.” Matthias says, and she nods.

“Yes, but they do happen when he feels safe and happy, and seeing this gives me hope for this couple.”

.

“This is my son, Alfred. Alfred, this is Francis, my… television partner.” Arthur explains, and Francis frowns at the explanation before looking at the boy who's watching him intently.

“Hello, Alfred. Did you like the wedding?” he asks, and Alfred frowns, looking him over.

“Are you really a guy?”

“Alfred!” Arthur looks scandalized, and Alfred looks at him as if challenging him to answer.

“He's wearing a dress, so is he?”

“I am. And it's fine; I guess I should have thought about this a little bit better.” Francis admits, and Arthur gives him a suspicious glance.

“Are you always this impulsive?”

“I'm not impulsive; I just get carried away sometimes…” Francis defends himself sheepishly, and Arthur looks less comfortable than he was looking until now.

“You're the prettiest husband in television history, papa.” Matthieu says, and Francis cuddles him.

“ Merci, mon coeur. ” Francis says before turning to Arthur and his son. “This is Matthieu, mon petit .”

“Hello, Mathew.” Alfred immediately pipes up, and Matthieu frowns.

“Matthieu.”

“Eh, Mathew?

The boy narrows his eyes, and Alfred tackles him, placing one arm around his shoulder.

“We'll be the best bros! I brought my Spider-Man and my Nintendo; want to see it? I like your suit too! Dad didn't let me choose a fun color, he said—”

“Alfred, what did I tell you about toys in a wedding?” Arthur interrupts, and Alfred looks at him with big, pitiful eyes.

“But…”

“I would like to see them…” Matthieu says in a small voice, and Francis smiles at him.

“I brought your bear too, and the remaining chocolate cookies you ate for dinner. You can give some to Alfred, can't you, mon chou ?” Francis says, and Arthur zeroes in on him.

“You gave him cookies for dinner?”

“He was feeling sad that I was going to marry a stranger…”  Francis places his hand on Matthieu's cheek, and Arthur touches his head in dismay.

“He needs to have a fixed routine and eat properly.” Arthur states, and Francis shrugs.

“I gave him milk and an apple too.”

“That's not enough!” Arthur seriously states, and Francis looks between him and Matthieu worriedly.

“Oh. It was just this time…”

“Really?” Arthur asks, and Francis shrinks on himself a little as Matthieu looks away guiltily.

“I didn't think it was that bad.” Francis says, and Arthur rubs his forehead with a long sigh.

“Didn't your wife tell you these things before you separated?”

“We were not married, and she didn't have time.” Francis says, and Matthieu slips from Alfred's grabby arms to hold Francis' arm, looking gloomy.

“Mama died in an accident.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Arthur says, and he shakes his head.

“Non, you are correct. I should have known these things, but I am usually working during dinner, have all these bad habits myself, and honestly, I don't know what to do…” Francis says, holding Matthieu’s hand, and Arthur looks at them with something less harsh.

“We should have a chat about this… later.”

“Yes, we need to figure out how to ease the boys into a new routine and how to do this…” Francis points between them, and for the first time they seem to be in agreement.

“Oui. Oh, what was the flower in the vase?” Francis asks out of the blue, and Arthur looks away, cheeks becoming dark.

“I don't know.”

“What?”

“I thought it would be fitting to have an unknown flower growing with us.” He mutters, and Francis' face opens in happiness.

“Just like our relationship!”

“Err…”

“He bought it on discount.” Alfred says, and Francis' eyes widen as Arthur rubs his neck, and the footage shows him in front of the camera with crossed arms.

“It was not because it was on discount. Well, partly, but I figured that if he didn't like it, I could add it to my garden.” Arthur looks very pleased with himself.

.

"We do need to talk about their personality types, don't we?" Erzsébet prompts, and the specialists nod before the focus goes to her once again.

“Arthur is a clear Type 6. He values responsibility and loyalty, but his insecurities often make him overly cautious and prone to second-guessing those around him. He seeks reassurance and predictability, yet he’s also wary of emotional vulnerability, which can make him resistant to change. At his core, he craves security, but his fear of betrayal or instability can cause him to push people away even when he wants closeness." She presses before turning her notes. 

“Now, Francis, on the other hand, is a strong Type 4. He is deeply attuned to his emotions and seeks meaningful, intense connections. He longs to be understood and admired but wrestles with feelings of unworthiness, which can make him unpredictable—especially to someone as structured as Arthur. His emotional intensity might overwhelm Arthur at times, but at his best, he is warm, affectionate, and deeply devoted.”

“Despite their differences, both are relationship-oriented. Arthur thrives in a dependable and trustworthy bond, while Francis flourishes in emotional depth and self-expression. If they can navigate their contrasting approaches to connection, they have the potential to build something truly meaningful.” She states, and Ludwig takes the reins.

“In many ways, their perspectives complement each other. Arthur’s practicality and cautious nature provide stability, which can ground Francis’ emotional intensity. Meanwhile, Francis' creativity and expressiveness challenge Arthur to open up and see life beyond just security. If they learn to embrace these differences rather than fear them, they could create a balanced relationship.” he finishes the explanation.

. 

Until now Francis has been dancing with his mother, sister, and friends, Arthur nursing his champagne quietly with João and Kiku as they speak and keep their eyes on the teens who are bent over a phone talking to each other, seemingly finding something both have an interest in.

One of the auburn-haired twins is excitedly dancing with Marianne, who smiles joyfully, the other being pulled to the dance floor by the troublesome duo when Francis walks to Arthur and holds his hand out to him.

“It's our moment.” he says with a wide smile, and Arthur tops off his glass before joining him on the dance floor as a cheesy song begins.

At the same time, they hold each other's waist and frown.

“I'm leading.” Arthur gives a look at Francis, who blinks at him in confusion.

“Why? I want to lead.”

“Shouldn't have come dressed in a dress then.” He states with a pleased smirk, and Francis looks down at himself before crossing his arms.

“That’s sexist.”

In a sudden move he pushes Arthur's hands up to his shoulders and pulls him closer by the waist until Arthur's chest and his touch.

“Since I'm wearing the dress, you should make a concession and let me lead the first dance.”

Arthur reddens and flutters, and when he speaks, he's breathless.

“Is that how this works now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” he asks but doesn't quite move from the position they're in.

“Isn't a marriage a partnership built on compromise?” Francis says against his ear, and Arthur's eyes narrow before pressing his lips tight.

“Fine.”

“We can switch up on the next one.” Francis' pleased grin is brilliant, and Arthur moves his head away to look at him.

“Is that how this is?” Arthur asks suspiciously, and Francis nods.

Arthur's dubious look doesn't leave his face, but he doesn't look disagreeable, which Francis takes as a win as he moves them, not allowing Arthur to escape the closeness until the songs move towards something more perky.

.

“That's Antonio, my best friend. We're very close, and he's dating that grumpy man, Lovino, sitting there.” Francis points at the tables where the grumpy twin sits and glares at Gilbert and Antonio, who are pulling the teenagers to dance with them.

“Oh. I know him. He's Feliciano's brother, isn't he?” Arthur's eyes open in recognition as Francis nods.

“Yes. Where do you know him from?”

“Their restaurant. My son loves their pizza.”

“It's the only pizza I allow Matthieu to eat.” Francis solemnly nods, and Arthur raises one eyebrow.

“You give him cookies for dinner yet are picky about the pizza he eats?”

“I have standards. And the cookies were handmade by my sister.” Francis says, and Arthur looks at Marion, who's been smiling at everyone but him.

“She seems… nice.”

“I'm sorry, she'll warm up to you. We're used to a certain status, and she's not happy that I'm marrying like this.” Francis admits, and Arthur's eyebrows rise.

“You're rich?”

“I'm well off, but unfortunately not rich.” Francis says, “My parents were owners of a vineyard, so we're used to a certain status, but they are the ones who have money, and knowing maman, there won't be much when she's gone.” Francis grins in fondness, and Arthur raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, you still have a father?”

“Yes.” Francis says, but his expression closes a little at that.

“Is that a sore subject?” Arthur asks, and Francis licks his lips and nods.

“A little.”

“If it's of any comfort, I have four brothers, and no one came.” Arthur bitterly says, and Francis looks at him closely.

“Why?”

“We don't get along well. I guess this doesn't really make them see me in a better light either.”

“I'm sorry. If I knew you'd only bring two people, I'd bring less.” Francis softly says, and Arthur shakes his head.

“It’s okay. I'm not very sociable.”

“I think you're fine.”

“Really?” Arthur's eyes widen, and Francis touches his collar.

“You can dance; you seem very proper, and you're handsome.”

“Oh.” Arthur flushes.

“I quite remember where he left off before…” Francis whispers, looking at him under his lashes, and Arthur's throat moves, “there is nothing to complain about you.” 

“Even after I wretched on you and left you?” Arthur asks, and Francis nods.

“Fuck, you're …” Arthur stops himself, and Francis's eyes gleam as their gazes meet.

“What?”

“Much better than I expected.” Arthur admits, as they keep moving side to side, not quite dancing, with Francis's arms around Arthur's shoulders and Arthur's hands on his waist.

“What were you expecting? Some ugly old man?”

“With my luck, honesty, yes.”

“Brighten up! We're both handsome men beginning a new life together; isn't it a joyful moment?” Francis says, shaking them a little, and Arthur looks away.

“Yes, I guess you're right. It hadn't been that bad despite the dress.”

Francis looks a little peeved, then presses closer once again, whispering into Arthur's ear with a leer.

“Did you fill out the sexual compatibility questionnaire?”

“I did…” Arthur hesitates, pulling away a little, “Why? I thought it was mandatory.” He pales, and Francis grins.

“It wasn't.” Francis shrugs as his grin widens “but I intend to consummate my marriage tonight, and I would rather prefer to pick where we left off before.”

Arthur swallows as Francis lays his head on his shoulder, and his face grows red as they sway.

“I can be amenable to that.” Arthur's whisper is hoarse, and the camera shows Francis' hand on Arthur's ass, then the wide room, full of mingling people who look quite happy.

.

Arthur has a bottle in his hand as he looks at the loud trio engaged in an embarrassing dance battle of Macarena because Gilbert hijacked the music somehow; both teens are with them trying to follow the movements and laughing with the twins and Marion, who are much more subdued but no less cheerful.

At distance Francis raises the dress to help the flow of the dance almost falling into Gilbert, who grabs him but almost falls too, making them laugh as Antonio changes the music to flamenco and dares everyone to try it too.

“You know, I'm sure there are loopholes in this thing…” Arthur muses, but Kiku doesn't say a thing.

“I'm not running away just because he wore a dress; I have an image to uphold; think of what the kids would say. It's just… too much. They're worse than Alfred on a sugar rush.”

Kiku gives a nod, and Arthur pouts.

“Based, Kiku… Am I using that right?” He asks, and Kiku shrugs as João joins them and manages to drag Arthur to the dance floor once again.

Francis takes the opportunity to grab him, but they don't quite dance as much as they talk with everyone around them.

“I like the guy in a dress. He's pretty.” Alfred tells the cameras, and both Antonio and Gilbert run to the camera to grab Alfred to join them but get distracted by the cameras.

“Franny is getting laid tonight! Franny is getting laid!” Gilbert chants, and Antonio joins his chant, dragging João and Lovino with him and telling them to join in as Alfred laughs.

.

The hotel bed is decorated with rose petals, a bottle of champagne inside an ice bucket, and Arthur and Francis stumble inside the room, both in disarray, clearly having drunk more than their share.

“I can't believe I am saying this, but no more champagne.” Francis says, sitting on the bed and taking off his shoes with a pleased moan as Arthur takes off his blue tie and throws it on the table in their room.

“Agreed.”

The camera zooms in on the shoes only to discover they are sandals with heels, and Arthur almost trips on them, looking at the ground in amazement.

“You were wearing heels?”

“Of course.” Francis says as Arthur keeps looking between the big-heeled sandals and Francis's feet.

“Oh…”

“Want me to put them back on?” Francis asks, raising his red foot, and Arthur seems flustered.

“I… we… should talk first?”

“Honhonhon, body language is all we need right now.” Francis stands and sends the crew away, closing the door on their faces but forgetting completely about the microphone.

The crew hesitates but stays put, simply recording the door as the sound keeps recording their conversation.

“I knew you were my height!” Arthur's voice sounds accusing.

“Shut up, husband.” Francis teases, then there's sounds of kisses that quickly turn wet.

“Oh fuck, we're really married, aren't we?” Arthur gasps out, and all they can hear is Francis humming in affirmation.

“Jesus, wait, wait…” Arthur's voice suddenly says.

“Oui?”

A small moment of silence, and then Arthur’s soft voice sounds once again.

“Could you dress the shoes again just for a bit? I want to take them off.”

Francis squeals, and the screen image moves to the next couple, who choose to sleep in different rooms.

.

Arthur opens the door to the crew already dressed in a proper cardigan and dark trousers, then silently leads them to the balcony where the table already has the couple's breakfast.

Francis keeps sleeping in as Arthur calls his son, then sits with a cup of tea, reading the newspaper like an old man, then the footage breaks to him outside the room, a suitcase in his hand.

“Did you have sex?” Laura asks with a smile, and Arthur's mouth opens in shock.

“What kind of question is that? That's none of your business, and no. We don't even know each other!”

The footage shifts to Francis dressed in a white robe at the balcony as he speaks to the camera.

“Did we have sex? Oui , of course, it was our nuptials. It's only natural.” He simply says as the cameraman presses.

“How was it?”

“Let's say that I'm glad to have brought condoms with me. Plural .” he winks.

The specialists look at each other with several degrees of surprise.

“Did they really?” Erzsébet asks as Matthias laughs.

“They forgot the mic? Rookie mistake.”

“I don't want to listen to this.” Ludwig shakes his head, and the television between them shows the footage of the door as Francis' deep voice fills the room.

“Can I take the dress off?”

“Fuck no, let me… Jesus, is that a garter?” Arthur's voice breaks as he speaks.

“Oui. Want to take it off with your teeth?” Francis giggles, and Arthur chuckles, the sound cutting to a later moment.

“Oh, Lord, stop teasing!” Arthur's voice is muffled, but they can hear its breathlessness.

“But you seem to be enjoying it so much.” Francis' voice is no less affected.

“For fuck's sake, I need you now! And this is non-negotiable.” There's a sound of something rustling, Francis squealing then chuckling, more muffled indistinguishable sounds that are clear in their meaning, and even Ludwig's lips curl a little upwards.

.

Francis appears on the balcony in a white robe, his hair already brushed and a smile in place as he sees Arthur.

Arthur barely looks at him, keeping his eyes on the paper, but his cheeks show some redness.

“How was your night, Cheri?” Francis asks, sitting down and immediately grabbing some orange juice, and Arthur keeps looking at the journal.

“You snore.”

“So do you.” Francis shrugs, and Arthur looks up.

“Certainly not like you.”

“Was I that loud?” Francis asks, and Arthur huffs.

The footage shows the door with the sound of the two of them snoring, then goes back to the balcony where Arthur grabs his cup of tea and takes a sip.

“You also steal the covers.”

“I was very exhausted last night, so I apologize for the indelicacy.” Francis says with a pointed look, and Arthur's lips curl a little upwards before he composes himself and places the newspaper down.

“Sure.”

“I will try to be more mindful next time.” Francis picks a croissant and puts it into his plate, grabbing more sweets then placing strawberries alongside them when Arthur glances at his plate.

“I wonder where we're going on our honeymoon. I asked for a sunny place.” Francis says, looking quite content, and Arthur looks at him.

“I asked for a calm place. I want to know you better.” 

“You can know me in Bora Bora or the Maldives.” Francis points out, and Arthur frowns.

“You're one of those incredibly busy people, aren't you?”

“Just enough to enjoy life. I have my downtime too.” Francis says, and Arthur nods, licking his lips.

“So, we should talk a little today. What do you do?”

“I am a fashion designer. That's why my schedule is so random. Sometimes I work during the night and sleep when Matthieu is at school.” Francis' enthusiasm is clear, but Arthur doesn't seem very happy with what he's listening to.

“Really?”

“Oui, lately I've been trying to stick to the daytime, but my clients are used to tighter schedules, so I'm trying to re-educate them a little.” Francis adds with a sigh, “It's not that hard, but I'm still not used to working diligently in the morning and having my creativity scheduled.” he shrugs, and Arthur nods.

“I see.”

“What about you?” Francis asks, and he smiles.

“I'm a teacher.”

“Really?” Francis's eyes widen in interest, and he nods.

“I teach literature at a university near my house. My students will have a blast seeing me here.” he chuckles, and Francis nods with him, looking amused.

“Matthieu said you lost your wife in an accident?” Arthur tentatively asks, and Francis' smile fades a little.

“She was not my wife. Matthieu was the result of a brief affair. She didn't tell me I had a son until two months before she died.” Francis looks a little hurt and angry, and Arthur looks regretful about asking the question.

“Oh.”

“She only came to me because she needed money and didn't have anything else to bargain with. I was shocked to find out I had a son. I had no idea… it was all very sudden.” Francis says, then looks at Arthur.

“But I was very happy. I always wanted a family.” Francis smiles and touches his cup, and Arthur nods at him as he continues.

“It's hard not to like Matthieu; he's so well-behaved and sweet. I have no idea if she said anything at all about me, but he latched onto me like a baby bird, and how could I not love him with all my heart?” Francis touches his chest, and Arthur nods.

“I see.”

“Then she had an awful accident. She was too young…” Francis solemnly says.

They keep silently eating, and after a few moments, Francis speaks again. “Is your son's mother in the picture?”

“She left.” Arthur says, done with his breakfast, and Francis blinks.

“Left?”

“We were kids who liked music and getting high. I don't even like women, and I… it was a mistake.” Arthur looks ashamed, and Francis grabs his hand and rubs it softly as he hesitates looking at it and continues.

“When she got pregnant, we freaked out. I didn't even have a job and suddenly had a child about to be born, but we couldn't… it was ours. I promised to take care of her and the child. I would take responsibility and do it right, but a few months after giving birth, she just left and never came back.” Arthur discloses, and Francis looks sad when Arthur takes his hand from his.

“You don't know where she is?”

“I don't even know if she's alive. She fucking followed rock bands around, and it was hell to keep her from drinking and smoking during the pregnancy. I swear she did it behind my back because Alfred is always in a rush like he's high and…” Arthur stops himself, crossing his arms. “I'm sorry. I get carried away talking about Alfred.”

Francis is smiling, amused, and Arthur takes a sip of his tea, trying to compose himself.

“You love him, of course you get carried away talking about him.” Francis reassures, and Arthur looks hopefully at him.

“Do you do that too?”

“All the time. I swear Toni changed the lock because I keep breaking in just to talk about him.” Francis gives a chuckle, and Arthur’s face looks more open once again, a small smile growing as he watches Francis.

“What's Matthieu like?”

“He is very smart, sweet, and cute. He has the best memory, and the teachers keep telling me he's the most well-behaved child they have, but he doesn't have many friends, and I worry he feels lonely with just me for company.” Francis says, and Arthur shakes his head.

“Alfred doesn't have that problem; he makes friends everywhere. He's also very smart but gets distracted easily, and I have to time the computer, or he will spend hours on it rotting his brain out.” Arthur frowns, then gives a small, soft smile. “He's a good kid, but he doesn't stay quiet for long unless he's being mischievous and breaking my things. Sometimes I worry…”

“He breaks things?” Francis asks when Arthur doesn't continue, and he shakes his head.

“Not on purpose, no, but he's prone to accidents. Last week he ruined my hydrangeas with this flying contraption. I don't even remember buying him that toy, so I guess someone gave him that because he's very charming and the old neighbors keep giving him everything he asks for.” Arthur shows his displeasure with his whole body, and Francis chuckles.

“He sounds fun.”

“He's my sun, my reason to live.” Arthur admits, and Francis gives him a smitten look.

“You're very charming.”

“I.. I'm not… Why do you say so?” Arthur's face is red, his body curling into itself as he looks at Francis with distrust.

“Take a compliment when it's freely given.” Francis firmly says, and his face becomes even redder.

“Thanks.” He mutters, and Francis places his hand under his chin, watching Arthur.

“You like gardening and literature then, what more, husband of mine?”

Arthur cradles his empty cup of tea in front of his face for a while, and only when he lowers it does he reply.

“I like music, tea, British series, embroidery, and cooking… I guess.”

“I love cooking!” Francis stands in excitement, and he frowns.

“You do?”

“Yes! And I'm very good at it. You'll have to cook with me; I always wanted to cook with someone.” 

“What else do you like doing?” Arthur asks, and he starts counting with his fingers.

“I like going out, traveling around the cities and finding interesting places and people, going to art museums, and the theater!”

“Don't you like to stay at home sometimes?” Arthur asks, and Francis blinks.

“Well, I like hosting dinners in my house and reading poetry sometimes.”

“I see.” Arthur slowly closes up once again, and Francis immediately notices, trying to reassure him.

“I don't mind staying at home sometimes; Matthieu and I usually see some movies and make karaoke nights. Last month we recited a whole story for his bears, and I got the main character.” Francis looks proud as he speaks, and Arthur raises an amused eyebrow.

“How many characters were there?”

“Seven. I did six of them…” Francis admits it, and Arthur laughs.

“Do you think Alfred would like that kind of thing?” Francis asks, and Arthur shrugs.

“He likes action movies and Transformers.” Francis' face falters a little.

“What about Disney?”

“I guess he likes the ones that have music.”

“Does he like musicals?” Francis perks up.

“He likes everything that's loud.”

“Oh, we'll have to have a play party.” Francis muses, looking thoughtful, and Arthur looks at him in surprise.

“We?”

“Of course, but I'm the main character.”

“I wouldn't dream of less after the dress stunt.” Arthur mutters, but Francis ignores him, clearly already busy visualizing several things as he looks at the distance.

.

When they open the envelope, a small gondola falls from it, and they immediately guess it before taking the paper from it.

“Have you been to Italy?” Francis asks, and Arthur nods.

“Once, and you?”

“A few times, but I admit I was hoping for an exotic place with sandy beaches…” Francis pouts, and Arthur gives him a steady look.

“I was hoping for a quieter place. I need a break.”

“I see…” Francis's eyebrows furrow, and Arthur crosses his arms.

“What? Working with teens is tiresome.”

Francis hums and touches his arm playfully.

“And it would give us more time to spend time together…” Fingers run through Arthur's arm, and he shoves the hand away.

“Back off, pervert.” Arthur says, and Francis chuckles.

“You know you thought about it.”

The specialists trade a look, and Ludwig breaks their silence.

“I just wonder how much longer Francis will take these small acts of distance as an opportunity for seduction. He's quite sensitive to rejection, and while not directly correlated to his personality type, he has some attachment issues that clash with Arthur's.”

“Could you explain that, Ludwig?” Matthias asks, and he nods.

“In simple terms, we all have past experiences that shape our personality, behaviors, and defense mechanisms. In Arthur’s case, he has a fearful-avoidant attachment style, which means he struggles with closeness—when he feels pressured or overwhelmed, he pulls away. Francis, on the other hand, has an anxious-preoccupied attachment style—he craves reassurance and tends to seek validation by pushing for emotional connection.”

“Does that make them incompatible?” Matthias asks.

“Not necessarily. Attachment styles are just one part of who we are, and they can be worked on with awareness and effort.

For their relationship to work, Arthur would need to practice being more open and comfortable with emotional closeness, while Francis would benefit from learning to self-soothe rather than depending on external validation. Therapy could be helpful for both of them.”

“That said, they do have strengths that help balance things out. Being parents has already pushed Arthur to be more emotionally available, and it has helped Francis develop more patience. These factors could make a real difference in how they support each other.” Erzsébet points out, and Matthias nods to himself.

“Well, change is hard… Let's see how much they’re willing to grow, then.”

Chapter Text

All of our couples are finally married; now they'll be enjoying their honeymoon in several places across the world. Let's see how their honeymoons are going on, shall we?

Footage of the Grand Canal and Italian countryside fills the screen, then an image of both Francis and Arthur sitting on the plane, looking ready for their trip, with Francis taking a moment to blow a kiss to the cameras as Arthur gives a small wave and the host keeps talking.

Why don't we start with the couple that keeps forgetting they have mics and cameras around?

Her chuckle cuts to both of them sleeping in the plane, Arthur's head against the window and Francis leaning on him.

Despite the sleepy flight, both act very differently when they arrive at their destination, Francis looking quite enthusiastic about their trip and Arthur remaining more quiet and stiff by his side.

They have to catch a bus and only then cross the canal, and Arthur remains seemingly indifferent to anything Francis says as they enter a historic hotel near the Grand Canal in Venice and check in. Since it's quite a touristic place and the crew can only record when they get inside their room they show images of the canal and the foyer before cutting to the bedroom, where both hold two suitcases, and finally have a moment to settle down.

“Oh, look at the details; this place is just enchanting.” Francis says, looking at their detailed Rococo furniture, and Arthur sits down, starting to unpack.

“We could have stayed in a less central and watery place.” Arthur murmurs, and Francis raises his eyebrows.

“But it's a lovely place, don't you think?”

“It's noisy, full of people, and we have to travel on boats. Not my idea of fun.” Arthur states, and Francis hums and walks to the window, inspecting the view.

“Oh, but look, come here and look at the view.” Francis calls, and he stands and starts placing things inside the wardrobe.

“I'm keeping the left side, if that's alright with you.”

“Forget that; we have a few moments to ourselves.”

Before Arthur ignores him once more, Francis grabs his hand and drags him, “At least enjoy the view; I promise it is almost as beautiful as me.” Francis winks, and he rolls his eyes but drops his trousers and relents, crossing the room to the window.

They both look outside, seeing the clear blue sky and the hotel providing a nice view of the buildings and canal, and Arthur looks down at the water, visibly less stressed.

“It has some charm.” Arthur muses, and Francis hums and holds his waist.

“Tell me, professor. Any fun facts about Venice?”

“Did you know that Venice is not only sinking but also tilting?” He asks, and Francis frowns.

“Really?”

“Yes. Eastward. It's because of the uneven setting of its wooden foundations in the lagoon's mud.”

“I didn't know that; thank you, professor . I didn't know you had facts saved for this occasion.” Francis says, giving his cheek a kiss, and Arthur reddens and shoves him away, not forcefully but not gently either.

“It's something I've read; now put your many things in place, if you will. I'm not waiting for you if you're not ready when they come for us.” He warns, and Francis shrugs and goes to unpack his three cases because beauty needs accessories, and he couldn't leave his expensive hair products behind.

.

The dining room is a clear example of the building's opulence and age, in golden tones, with sturdy wooden tables and overly worked chairs, and our couple enjoys an uneventful meal as they speak amongst themselves. 

“I put Alfred on the Boy Scouts, and it was the best thing I did.” Arthur says with conviction, then stops himself and frowns.

“He went through a phase of tying everything up with the knots he learned, but I would say that's just his natural enthusiasm for nature. How he brought that log to our house I'll never know, but I guess some things are just unexplainable.” Arthur muses aloud, and Francis blinks at him before tilting his head.

“Perhaps that's what Matthew needs to start bonding with people. I don't understand why he's so quiet; both his maman and I were rather talkative and social.”

“That doesn't mean much. Both I and Alice were rather private, I guess, keeping to ourselves even in a crowded concert, but Alfred is truly unlike us, making friends everywhere and charming the elderly ladies into giving him candy. I guess I used to get in trouble in school too, but don’t tell him that or I'll never hear the end of it.” Arthur straightens up as if Alfred is nearby to hear his words, and Francis laughs.

“You know, maybe you have more in common than you think. You just need to see the world from his point of view.” Francis advises, and Arthur nods.

"You seem close with your son." 

"Not as much as I’d like." Francis exhales, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass, “I don’t think I’m very good at this."

"Why would you say that?" Arthur asks, and Francis offers a small, almost self-deprecating smile before speaking.

"Because I spent most of my life only thinking about myself, doing what I wanted, when I wanted. And then suddenly—there he was. I love him, Dieu, I do. But I had to change everything overnight. No more drifting. No more indulgence. Just… responsibility. I barely knew how to care for him. It was all trial and error. If not for my friends, I would have been completely lost." Francis's voice is soft by the end of it, and Arthur nods, the weight of those words settling between them. “What age was he?" 

"Thirteen now… So it was four years ago. Mon dieu, where did the time go?" Francis lets out a breath, eyes widening slightly as if the realization had just hit him, and Arthur chuckles.

"Having kids does that to you."  

Francis hums before tilting his head. "And what about you? How old was Alfred when she left?"

Arthur presses his lips together before deciding to reply. 

"A few months old."

"That must have been hard."

Arthur gives a small, almost nostalgic smile.

"It was. But then they say their first word, take their first step, and suddenly you know you wouldn’t want it any other way."

Francis lowers his gaze, his hair falling slightly in front of his face.

"That’s the problem, I think." 

"What do you mean?" Arthur asks after studying him for a moment.

"I wasn’t there when Matthieu was young. One day, I was just… introduced into his life, and then his mother was gone. He barely knew me, and now I’m the only one he has. And I…" he hesitates, voice dipping, "I don’t always understand him."

"You two are very different, aren’t you?" Arthur tilts his head, and Francis lets out a soft, almost breathy laugh.

“In every possible way. He’s quiet, withdrawn, and thoughtful—he doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve like I do. And I’m always so busy that he spends more time with my friends than with me. I worry that’s why he’s so closed off."

Arthur shrugs.

"If there’s one thing I’ve learned about teenagers, it’s that they’re surprisingly sturdy." 

"You think so?" Francis looks up, wary, and Arthur smirks.

"At worst, he’ll run away at sixteen, become an anarchist, and do drugs." 

“He wouldn’t!" Francis gasps, clutching his chest, and Arthur raises one eyebrow, looking less soft; a sudden harshness makes him look more challenging and colder than before.

"And if he did?"

"He’s my baby!" Francis scowls, and Arthur looks away with a small smirk.

"People change. Maybe he’d do that for a while, then grow out of it. Nothing is permanent." His voice carries an edge, something personal lurking beneath the words, and Francis studies him for a moment before exhaling and giving a small shrug.

"I don’t care how much he changes. If he runs, I’ll be right there waiting for him to come back."

Arthur nods, something approving in his expression as he grabs his glass and drinks the rest of his wine.

"Relax. He seems more like the ‘dresses in black and writes poetry about death’ type,” he ends up saying, and Francis narrows his eyes and glares at him.

"Is it fun for you, making me suffer?" 

Arthur’s grin only widens.

"A little."

.

In the afternoon they decide to explore the hidden streets, mingling with the locals, entering the small Venetian mask stores filled to the brim, and seeing the gondoliers rushing by and trying to gather clients, which doesn't seem to be very difficult since you either go through the canals or keep walking through small alleys with old houses filled with flowers on their small balconies, facing long, exhausting detours that could leave them lost if they're not careful.

“We should stop somewhere, grab a map, and make a plan.” Arthur says, and Francis frowns.

“That takes away the beauty of exploring mysterious small stores, finding nice quirky souvenirs, and meeting true Italians.”

“I already know enough Italians, and we could get lost.”

“How can we explore the small stores if we are following a tourist map that only shows us superstores and overpriced places?” Francis asks, and Arthur seems to clench his jaw before giving a long exhale.

“Let's stay near the big canal then.” he compromises, and Francis smiles, walking inside another small store as Arthur stays outside checking the show window.

.

Since the rest of their trip was quite uneventful, the show picks the couple up at sunset, entering a gondola as they watch the golden rays of sun reflecting in the water.

Francis smiles and sits down, and Arthur reluctantly enters, balancing and glaring at the wooden gondola, as if afraid of falling into the water.

“Isn't this cliché?” he asks as soon as he sits, his hands immediately grabbing the seat, and Francis waves at the camera before noticing his behavior and looking worried.

“Non, it's the epitome of romance. The sky, the water, the swaying of the boat as our bodies press together—”

“That's enough. Thank you very much.” Arthur interrupts, and Francis shakes his head, leaning into him.

“It will never be enough, mon amour . Are you afraid of water?”

“No.” Arthur shuts the conversation, looking uncomfortable, his shoulders stiff, his lips pressed into a line, and Francis seems to ignore the bite of his words as the gondola begins to move.

A moment of silence grows between them as Francis keeps enjoying the scenery with a small smile, pointing at several things as they keep moving slowly, and after a while, Arthur looks less uncomfortable, as he succumbs to the charms of the ride and the setting sun that surrounds them.

“Did you know the gondoliers have a code amongst them just like the pirates?” Arthur suddenly breaks their silence, and Francis looks at him with a fond expression.

“I never heard of that.”

“It's a family business, hence why almost all gondoliers are sons of other gondoliers. They have secrets of the trade that have been kept through generations.”

Suddenly the man starts singing in a deep voice, and Francis holds Arthur's waist as he cringes, his face reddening.

“You are quite amusing, always flushing and so terribly British about displays of affection.” Francis says, and Arthur elbows his side, forcing him to let go of him.

“I'm not a spectacle to amuse you.” Arthur states, glaring at him, and Francis frowns, pointing at the setting sun hitting the water with an open hand.

“I just wanted to share something beautiful with you.”

Arthur's shoulders drop a little as they watch the water darkening with the last rays of sun, the streetlights spreading small dots of brightness around the canal, and when he sees Francis looking at him with a sad expression, he looks away.

“I know, just… we've spoken about this. Can't you tone it down?” Arthur requests, and Francis nods, not grabbing him but keeping their arms pressed together, and despite the promising beginning, tension seems to grow as the couple gets to know each other.

Laura joins the specialists as they visualize the footage of the honeymoons, some more promising than the others, and notices how uneventful dinner between Arthur and Francis ends up being.

They look a little at a loss, unsure of what to do when a couple doesn't quite have any issue, and yet there is an unspoken tension that keeps growing.

“Unlike some of the other couples, Arthur and Francis seem to be truly talking and meeting each other behind the cameras, which is good.” Erzsébet says, trying to stay positive.

“It could also be problematic if there is tension that we don't know where it comes from.” Ludwig frowns.

“Maybe it will pass.” Matthias says, and they all nod, looking dissatisfied.

.

It's the second day of their honeymoon, and just like on their wedding night, Arthur is the first to rise and get ready for the day as Francis sleeps in.

He is holding the phone to his ear as he listens to the other side, a cup of tea in his right hand as he sits by the window and watches the view and keeps speaking with his son.

“And have you been behaving?” Arthur asks, not sounding pleased by whatever he's listening to.

“I'm sure, but I don't think you'd have much fun here,” he says, then pauses, giving a small smile. “No, that's Greece.” the smile turns bitter. ” We're still in Europe. Where did you think we are? That's South Africa.” Arthur says before sounding baffled and shaking his head and smiling once more.

“Yes, I'll bring you something cool. I don't know, maybe he'll bring something, who knows. Okay, do that then. Sure, I'll talk to you later, and please don't disturb his Koi fish again. We don't want any accidents, do we?” Arthur says, shaking his head, but he looks relaxed and content; that is, until Francis leaves the room just in a thong that covers almost nothing, the footage showing only his face after just a second after his entrance.

“What are you doing?”

“Walking?” Francis yawns, and Arthur points at him with the phone.

“Why are you naked?”

“I'm not naked…” he looks down at himself as if to check his nakedness, and Arthur places the phone on the table before covering his eyes with that hand, the cup of tea still perfectly peaceful on the other hand, as if born to be there.

“Jesus Christ... Can you dress something?” Arthur says, voice full of reproach, and Francis grins.

“And deprive you of—” he stops himself, noticing Arthur’s glare, mouth pressed in a thin line and impatient look.

Francis hesitates for a second, then sighs, “Okay, okay... I'll put on a robe if it makes you happy.”

“Very.” Arthur says still, glaring at him, but his eyes roam all over him as he turns around, cheeks reddening as he watches Francis leave before he clears his throat and goes back to his tea, both hands cradling it.

“Alfred asked if you bought him something.” Arthur says, voice loud enough to be heard in the bedroom, and Francis leaves the room in a long, light blue robe.

“You didn't ruin my surprise, did you?” Francis asks, and he shakes his head.

“Of course not. Are you going to call Matthieu?”

Francis hums, checks the time, and shakes his head.

“It's early; he's just like you in the morning…” Francis shudders, and Arthur narrows his eyes.

“Oi!”

“I exaggerate. You’re quite the gentleman after your tea.” Francis winks, and Arthur rolls his eyes as they begin talking while eating together.

.

Unlike the previous day, they have a tight schedule, so they catch a bus to a train station, and only then do they catch a train to Tuscany, images of the Italian countryside filling the screen.

Arthur sits by the window, a scowl in place as Francis, by his side, also looks at the strangely decrepit view that precedes the vineyards and tries to engage Arthur in deep conversation. 

“You always look like you’re lost in thought. What do you find yourself thinking of more than you wish you did?” Francis asks, and Arthur briefly tenses before shrugging, his tone dismissive as he speaks. 

“The past, I guess.”

“Anything in particular?” Francis looks at him curiously, and Arthur gives a small frown before looking outside the moving train once more.

“Just things I could have done differently.” Arthur's voice is flat, and Francis nods his head with a thoughtful look.

“Regret, then.”

“Everyone has regrets.” Arthur scowls, his tone defensive, and Francis grins, tilting his head.

“Alright then, I'll ask something lighter then.” he says, and Arthur wearily glances at him as he hums in thought.

“If your soul had a color, what would it be?” he grins, and Arthur blinks, visibly caught off guard.

“What?”

“Your soul. A color. What is it?” Francis watches him closely, his eyes playful, and Arthur gives him a glance as his frown deepens, eyebrows almost pressing together.

“Black.”

Francis raises one eyebrow and places a finger on his chin, his face making a sad pout.

“How tragic.”

Arthur doesn't reply, simply keeps looking outside for a while, and Francis smiles at the woman by their side before turning to Arthur once again, leaning slightly into him, eyes curious.

“Tell me about a dream you had that you never forgot. Something that left an impression on you.”

Arthur looks at him, body tense and face clearly uncomfortable as he gives a sharp exhale.

“Why do you keep asking things like that?”

“Because I want to know.”

Arthur gives a scowl, seems to almost press himself to the window, and grabs their bag, taking out a book from it.

“I don’t see why that’s necessary.”

Francis frowns a little and places a hand on his arm.

“Arthur, am I—” 

“Why do you insist on interrogating me?” Arthur snaps, his face reddening as he sees the woman glancing at them, and Francis's mouth opens in surprise.

“I'm just trying to know you…”

“Well, you already know enough for someone who just met me.” Arthur dryly says, grabbing the book and turning to the window, and Francis looks saddened before giving a long sigh and turning to the woman.

“Bonjour, is this your first time in Italy?”

The woman smiles back at him, and they start talking to each other in accented English as Arthur gives them a glance when they laugh and press closer to keep their tones down.

Arthur's glare only increases the more Francis keeps talking with the woman, but Francis doesn't even notice, happy to have someone more willing to reply to his questions.

The specialists make a sympathetic face, and Erzsébet proceeds to explain what is happening.

“Francis is not pushing Arthur to be intrusive; he does it because this is how he expresses interest. As a Type 4, he seeks depth and meaning, believing true connection comes from understanding someone fully. His questions aren’t about control; they’re invitations, a way of saying, ‘I want to know you.’ But Arthur, as a Type 6, doesn’t give vulnerability easily. He needs trust before he opens up, and Francis’ emotional intensity can feel overwhelming. Where Francis sees an open door, Arthur sees a risk.” she says, then points at the image as Francis keeps talking with the woman as Arthur glares at his book.

“This means Arthur is not disengaged or trying to dismiss him; it's simply a matter of how they express themselves. They’re speaking different languages when it comes to intimacy, and Arthur's not rejecting his efforts; he's simply making sure that it's safe to let Francis in, which can be confusing to the viewer and Francis, as he pulls away before giving in, but in reality is a test of patience. If Francis proves he won't leave or push too hard, Arthur will slowly let his guard down.” Erzsébet finishes as Laura nods in understanding.

“Let's hope Francis has enough patience then, because I sure don't have.” Matthias laughs, and they fondly shake their heads.

.

The vineyard state is almost cinematic with its rolling hills and golden lights, the sun making the leaves shine in the distance.

Francis is no longer talking with the woman, merely making small doodles on a small sketchbook as he glances outside, as if inspired by the view, and Arthur glances at the sketchbook from time to time in interest.

When the journey is finally over they take a car to the vineyard and it clearly feels almost excessive as they look around wide eyed.

The wine tasting tour is something both seem to enjoy, speaking in low tones to each other as they try different grape varieties, Francis making small conversation with the people around them as Arthur silently watches and asks a few questions.

“This vineyard is also famous for its renowned kitchen and Michelin star chef Romulus Vargas. Chef Vargas will show you how to cook the best dish to pair with the wine we just tasted.” The sommelier says, and both eyes widen as they follow him to a fully equipped kitchen that has everything they need.

“We will make our wonderful dish and then pair it with this brilliant Italian wine from this year's reserve, which will end our full experience.”

“Oh, this is exciting.” Francis says, and Arthur nods, looking around.

“I didn't know wine tasting had this part.”

“They usually don't, but Chef Vargas reinvented his family vineyard business and created this full unique experience, keeping in mind the true Italian heart.” he says, and a booming voice laughs and joins them.

“A good wine needs good food to be fully enjoyed, si?”

“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Vargas.” the man nods, and Mr. Vargas, a tall man with dark hair and a bearded face, joins them with a wide smile.

“It's always my pleasure to teach the best combinations for our majestic wines.” He beams, and they all gather around him, grabbing aprons with the vineyard name.

.

Arthur and Francis, donned in aprons, stand at a wooden counter alongside the charismatic older chef, who exudes effortless charm, as he gestures to the ingredients spread around them, as they begin their dishes.

"Cooking is about feeling, about passion! No need for exact measurements—just a little of this, a little of that, and it all comes together!" he explains, and Francis nods, immediately beginning to sprinkle herbs into his dish.

“Cooking is art, not science. Use your instinct and add what the wine makes you crave.” Vargas says, and Arthur frowns as he grips his measuring spoon and eyes the recipe in frustration.

"A little of this, a little of that? How much is that exactly?!"

“You know in your heart. Just listen to it.” Vargas touches his shoulder with a playful shrug, and Arthur looks at the chef with a deadpan look.

"I don’t cook with my heart. I cook with instructions." 

Francis snickers by his side, leaning on the counter as Arthur tries to eyeball the right amount of olive oil.

" Mon cher , you're thinking too much. Let go, feel the ingredients!" He chuckles, and the chef tips the bottle, adding more oil with a carefree gesture.

“Oh for the love—! What are you doing?! You’re ruining the proportions!" Arthur shrieks, and the chef claps his shoulder once more as Francis hides his laughter behind a hand.

"You must trust the process! Like love, cooking cannot be controlled too much. It needs to flow." The chef advises, and Francis tilts his head as the chef walks to his side.

“That's the perfect metaphor for you." He says, and Arthur huffs, barely keeping up as the chef says to add garlic.

“Perfecto. You're a natural, aren't you?” the chef says to Francis, and Arthur glares at Francis, who tossed more ingredients inside the dish.

“Thank you, chef; your help has been invaluable.”

“No, you feel it, and you do it just exactly as you should.” Vargas places a hand on his shoulder, and Arthur glares at them, his eyes lingering on them as they share some joke that he's not privy to because they start talking amongst themselves, the chef interrupting the talk with instructions, before returning to the conversation.

“You can add turmeric too; just a pinch will be enough.” The chef instructs, and Arthur grabs the pot of turmeric with clenched teeth, as Francis begins chopping herbs, the chef giving someone else an indication by Francis side, before returning to their conversation as they easily smile and talk to each other.

"Yes, brilliant. That makes everything clearer, doesn’t it?" Arthur says under his breath.

Francis gives him a glance and smiles, but Arthur doesn't notice, too busy muttering curses under his breath, chopping herbs with too much force, which he seems to be enjoying despite his scowl.

The chef keeps doing another round, adding something here, trying to fix something there as they keep cooking, and after a while their dishes seem to be ready to boil.

Francis' dish is already waiting for the boiling part, so he goes to Arthur, who looks a little dubious of his own dish, a mostly brown thing that looks nothing like what Francis has.

“You just need to follow the instructions.” Francis says, eyeing his dish, and Arthur glares at him.

“I am following the instructions, unlike you, who is more interested in…. Fuck off, I can do this.” Arthur interrupts himself, and Francis blinks at him.

“Go flirt with the chef and let me work.” Arthur grumbles, and Francis' mouth opens.

“What?”

At that same moment, the chef comes to them, wrapping an arm around Francis' shoulder with a smile.

“I will want to try yours, Francis.” He says, then looks at Arthur's dish and immediately lets go of Francis' shoulder and grabs Arthur's hands before he puts more things inside the pan.

“ Mama Mia… What is this? No, please, signore, let me help you.”

“What, more a little of this and that?” Arthur dryly asks, and the man looks horrified.

“No. Less, much less, we'll start again.” The chef says, and Arthur frowns as both remake the dish, this time Arthur merely handing him things with a sulk, as Francis watches them thoughtfully.

When they eat, Arthur is gloomy as he tastes his dish, and Francis, looking unsure of what to say, points at his own dish.

“Do you want to try mine? It's the best thing Chef Vargas ever tasted!” Francis winks, and Arthur glares at him.

“Everything you do is perfect, isn't it?”

“Oui.” Francis grins, and before he can say something more, the chef comes to their table.

“How is everything here?”

“Wonderful! Thank you for helping us with our food.” Francis smiles at the chef, who touches both Arthur's and Francis's shoulders.

“I'm glad. A good wine needs the best dish; otherwise, their union is not a happy one.”

“Would you care to join us?” Francis asks, and he nods, sitting down as they engage in conversation.

As the chef and Francis keep talking, sharing small things about food and vineyards, Arthur’s frown grows heavier once again, his glare not leaving his plate as he silently sits with them, and after a while he stands and excuses himself.

“Is everything okay with him?” The chef asks, and Francis watches him go with a frown and sighs.

“We just married; I think he's still getting used to the idea.” Francis smiles at the chef, and he nods.

“I knew he was holding back something deep; it's the passion that is stuck inside. Sometimes it is like wine; it needs to mature to truly be appreciated with good food and company.” The chef says, and Francis agrees with a laugh.

Meanwhile, Arthur is outside watching the vineyard, his arms crossed as the crew follows him. His fingers shift restlessly as if aching for something, and after a while of silence, the cameraman asks.

“Why did you leave?”

“Are you really asking why? First he's a narcissistic twat that won't let me be, now he makes a move on everything with legs, and you ask me why?” Arthur sneers, and the image shifts to show the specialists watching the footage with a wince.

“It's always cognitive bias, isn't it?” Erzsébet shakes her head, and Ludwig nods.

"You said the same about the other couple," Laura points out, "I think we all know what a bias is, but what does that actually mean in this context?" She asks, and Erzsébet explains.

"Cognitive biases are thought patterns that can distort how we perceive, interpret, and make decisions. They’re influenced by personality, attachment style, defense mechanisms, and even Enneagram type. In this case, Arthur’s negativity bias makes him instinctively distrust Francis' emotional sensitivity, while Francis' bias makes him believe Arthur is more emotionally open than he actually is."

"Because they slept together," Laura states, and Erzsébet nods. 

"Exactly. Francis sees that as reassurance, proof that Arthur is emotionally engaged. But Arthur may have acted out of necessity, impulse, or even anxiety, rather than deep emotional commitment."

Ludwig folds his arms. "This creates a cycle that could push them apart."

Erzsébet gives him a solemn look as he explains.

"Arthur withdraws because he assumes the worst will happen. Francis interprets that as rejection, so he pushes harder for reassurance. But that pressure overwhelms Arthur, making him pull away even more. That, in turn, reinforces Francis' belief that his fears are real, and the cycle repeats, wearing the relationship until it breaks." 

"So how do they break this cycle?" Laura asks. 

"Communication," Erzsébet answers. "They need to recognize when their own biases are shaping their reactions. Instead of assuming, they should talk about what they’re feeling before the cycle takes over."

"Which," she adds with a small smile, "is good advice for any relationship.”

.

Dinner is another surprise set privately on the hotel roof.

When they look around, they can see candles, fairy lights, the stars above their heads, and the soft wind ruffling the cloth of their table as soft music invites them in.

Francis immediately looks around in surprise as a bright smile grows on his face, Arthur looking around with a much more guarded expression.

“This is beautiful.” Francis voices, and Arthur sits down, rearranging his napkin and not looking at him.

“I always wanted to do something like this, but I never had the chance, you know?” Francis trails, sitting down in front of him, and gives Arthur a smile before turning his eyes to their view.

“Have you ever done something like this?” he asks, and Arthur shakes his head.

“No.”

“You never thought about a romantic evening with your other half?” he playfully asks, and Arthur looks at him and gives a small shrug.

“I did, just not like this.”

“What would you deem a good romantic evening then?”

“I don’t know, a simple night in, watching a movie… nothing orchestrated like this…”

“Romance can take many shapes. Why are you always dismissing romantic gestures?”

“Because none of this is real, Francis.” Arthur snaps, his tone angry and accusing, as Francis looks at him with a small frown.

“It's only unreal because you don't allow it to be real.”

Arthur looks at him, his expression so closed off it almost looks cold, and Francis grabs the wine and takes a large sip.

“Are you angry at me?” 

“Why would I?”

“I don't know; you’re the one sounding angry since we left the vineyard.” Francis says, with an edge of accusation, and Arthur physically withdraws, arms crossing as he looks away from Francis.

“I’m just tired.”

Francis is clearly not convinced, his hands fidgeting with the napkin.

“Is it because I laughed at you?” 

“You do that constantly. If I got upset over that, I’d never stop being angry.” Arthur drily replies, and Francis' expression softens a little.

“So what is it, then?”

Arthur gives a long exhale and uncrosses his arms, also fidgeting with his own napkin.

“Nothing. Just drop it.”

“I don't understand… the moment I try to get closer, you always pull away.” Francis' voice is soft as he looks at his own hands, and Arthur’s expression softens a little.

“You push too much.”

The reply clearly doesn't please Francis, who spreads his hands, focusing intently on Arthur.

“What am I supposed to do? Let you lock yourself away while I pretend I don’t notice?”

Arthur turns slightly to him, his eyes not meeting him as he speaks in a sharp tone.

“Yes, actually. That would be nice.”

“And you wonder why people don’t understand you.” Francis says, shaking his head, and Arthur turns to him, arms crossing once more.

“Oh, forgive me for not wanting to dissect my every thought and feeling just because you enjoy drowning in yours.”

Francis gasps, his eyes narrowing slightly, but when he speaks, it's not in anger, just frustration.

“I don’t want to ‘drown’ in your feelings, Arthur. I just want to know them.” He says, pausing to compose himself, his voice becoming softer once more, something pleading underneath his expression, “I told you I just want to know you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be known.” Arthur states, jaw clenching as he speaks, and Francis shakes his head.

“I think you do, but you don’t know how to let it happen.”

The silence that follows is tense as Francis watches Arthur carefully, and Arthur keeps looking away, his jaw moving in thought as he seems to think. “Why does it matter so much to you?” he asks, and Francis leans towards him, eyes steady on him as he glances back at him.

“Because I refuse to be a stranger to the person I married.” his voice drops, and his hands unconsciously reach to Arthur's side of the table

”And because I think that despite all your indifference, you don’t really want me to be one.”

Arthur looks at him with something unreadable in his eyes, then he glances at the cameras and sharply turns back to the Venetian canal, hiding his clenched fists underneath the table.

“You’re exhausting.” is all he says, in a strained voice.

Francis looks down, retreating his arms to his chest almost protectively, and dinner is spent in tense silence.

.

Despite their misunderstanding, when the crew reaches their room in the morning, they seem to have slept in the same bed but the atmosphere is heavy as Arthur goes outside to talk to his son and Francis grabs his own phone to call his, seemingly less chirper than usual.

“ Mon Chou , how are you feeling?” he asks, and after nodding along, he smiles. “I am, don't worry.”

As soon as the words are outside his mouth, he shifts the phone in front of him and puts it on loudspeaker as the image of his son's face appears.

“Oh, mon beau fil, I missed seeing your face.” Francis coos, and Matthieu shakes his head.

“You don't need to see me every day.”

“Of course I do. How else will I fill the void of your absence?”

“Papa!”

“Now tell me, what did you do yesterday?”

“The usual, and Uncle Gil came by because you sent him a text to entertain me. There was no need, papa.”

“I don't want you to feel lonely.” Francis easily shrugs, and Matthieu tilts his head.

“Is everything alright?”

“Oui, of course. We went to a vineyard and had a cooking class there. It was a great experience.” Francis says, and Matthew frowns but he doesn't press and their talk continues as they catch up.

.

Since it's the last day of their honeymoon, they have a slow day to walk through the countryside and an afternoon in a spa, so they prepare their bags because they'll leave first thing in the next morning and need to leave everything ready to go.

“Can you pass me—oh, thanks.” Arthur says as Francis hands him the last of his items in the wardrobe.

“Did you see my robe?” Francis asks, looking around for it, and Arthur glances around before replying.

“I think you left it in the bathroom.”

Francis quickly goes to it, and Arthur looks at him, almost thoughtful, before looking away as he enters the bedroom once more and places it in the bed, ready to be used.

They keep doing their own bags, and when Arthur hands Francis a hairbrush he almost missed, he doesn't let it go, and Francis looks at him confused.

“Being married to a stranger is overwhelming, Francis.” He says, and Francis stands, Arthur dropping the brush and looking away.

“I know, but you're not alone.”

“I'm just not used to openness, emotions, and expectations. Until now it's always been just me and Alfred; it's different.” Arthur says, still not meeting his eyes, and Francis smiles, placing the brush in a handbag.

“I'm sorry if I pushed you too hard. I do that sometimes.”

Arthur finally looks at him, and they hold eye contact for a few seconds before Arthur reddens and turns away as Francis shakes his head with a fond smile.

“Well, it's our last day here; are there any other facts I should know?” Francis asks, and Arthur walks to the window, not leaving for the balcony, just staying inside making Francis company as he finishes his task.

“Outside Venice there's an abandoned island that is considered one of the most haunted places on earth. It was once a quarantined plague zone, but unfortunately it's forbidden for visitors.”

“That is interesting. Maybe the kids would like to know we almost went there.” Francis chuckles, and Arthur's lips curl upwards.

“We didn't.” He chuckles, “And Alfred doesn't like haunted places.”

“Why not?”

“He's an imaginative child.” Arthur says, and Francis gives a long sigh.

“Tell me they won't be angsty teens who hate their parents in a few years.”

Arthur looks at him and shakes his head.

“I'd be lying if I said that. Alfred calls me lame almost every single day.”

“Matthieu is already starting to show signs of independence too. He barely tells me about girls or crushes. Or boys, I don't know.” Francis opens his arms at loss, and Arthur's eyes widen.

“Dear lord, do you want to know that?”

“Of course. Don't you ask Alfred about those things?” Francis asks.

“Thankfully he's a big kid and doesn't show any interest yet.” Arthur says, and with that, they begin talking once more more easily.

The rest of their honeymoon is so interesting they barely show images of their time walking together or enjoying the spa, but to be fair, they mostly spent it alone doing different things, the few moments together in complete silence as they bask in the warm water or enjoy a massage that seems invigorating for both of them, but at least the other couples have enough to fill their spot, and sometimes you can see Arthur and Francis trading glances as they do their own thing.

.

The first thing they do when they come back to London is meet the apartment where they will live during the duration of the experiment so Francis and Arthur place their things inside the main bedroom and begin to explore the two-room apartment.

“The kitchen is nice.” Francis murmurs, looking around and checking the counters, and Arthur nods, opening the balcony and looking at the surroundings before coming back inside.

“It's a pity they don't allow the kids in here.” Arthur says, and Francis tilts his head.

“That is true, but we could use that room for work.”

Arthur quickly turns around and shakes his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I want it available.” Arthur presses, and Francis crosses his arms, tilting his side against the counter.

“Why?”

“I need to have a room to myself, or I'll suffocate on your perfume.”

“You wound me.” Francis places a hand on his chest, eyes amused and lips stretched in a grin, and Arthur crosses his arms too, looking at the closed door.

“What if we fight, Francis? What if we need distance?” he asks, and Francis uncrosses his arms.

“Fine, but I'm not leaving our room.”

“I have no problem in leaving.”

“I've noticed.” Francis says, making a face, and Arthur glares at him.

“Do you have a problem with me creating clear boundaries?”

“They're not boundaries if you're avoiding honest conversations.”

“You know what? I'm sleeping there tonight.” Arthur says, and Francis laughs.

“But Mon Cher, you're a cuddler.”

“I'm not! You're the one who invaded my space! I had nowhere to run!” Arthur accuses, and Francis waves him off.

“I seem to remember you sneaking into my arms in the middle of the night.”

“Maybe I was cold; I was half asleep; I don't remember!” Arthur defends himself, and they begin bickering.

Despite their words, Arthur doesn't bring his things to that room.

.

Since they are back, the specialists meet them, trying to gauge how they are or if there are any developments they should be aware of.

Erzsébet is the one speaking with Francis, who gives her a hug and two kisses before sitting in front of her.

“How have you been?” She asks.

“Good. I missed my son, so it was heavenly to see him face to face.” Francis admits as she nods.

“How are you feeling about your marriage?”

“I think it went fine, and the honeymoon was beautiful too.” Francis says after a small hesitation, and she gives him a reassuring smile.

“We noticed you and Arthur speak behind the cameras; are you making progress?”

“A little.” He shrugs, and she hums.

“Just a little?”

“I mean, sometimes I try to reach out, and he simply shuts down, so there was not much progress besides what you've seen, really.” He gives a small shrug, and she looks at him.

“Is that frustrating?”

“Oui, how can I truly connect with him if he doesn't allow me to know him? I try to give him time, but…” he gives a long exhale, “It feels like it's Matthieu all over again, but this time nothing stops him from leaving.” Francis admits, and she raises one eyebrow.

“Are you afraid he'll leave you?”

Francis seems to mull over his words before replying, but when he does, he doesn't seem sad.

“I like him. I think we could grow into something more, at least I hope so…”

“We think you're doing very well, but if anything happens, we're here to help. Just be patient and keep communicating; that is important.” She says, and he nods.

“Thank you, Erzsébet. I appreciate it.”

Meanwhile, Arthur is with Ludwig, disclosing what is bothering him.

“I don't feel comfortable when he asks all those questions.” he admits, and Ludwig nods, not opening his mouth.

“And he's very touchy too. I'm not sure I like that… especially in public.” Arthur licks his lips, looking down, and Ludwig finally intervenes.

“It is valid to need your own space. Have you told him that?”

“Yes.”

Ludwig doesn't seem to believe such, his eyebrows furrowing, but doesn't push, simply proposing, "Would you feel more comfortable sleeping in different rooms?

“Oh, no. I don't mind him sleeping with me. I'm used to people in my bed…” Arthur immediately replies, then seems to realize how it sounds and reddens. 

“I mean, I had brothers, and now with Alfred… I don't mind sharing a bed.”

“So he doesn't cross boundaries.” Ludwig states, and he shakes his head.

“No. It's only the questions, really…” Arthur trails, “and all the touch, I guess.”

Ludwig nods, his head tilted.

“Do you think that the fact that you're in public affects your reaction to his touch?”

Arthur simply looks at him, lips curled downwards as he shrugs.

“Perhaps.”

“It's valid to feel uncomfortable in public. Affection is, after all, something private that showcases our emotions.” Ludwig says, and Arthur nods with him.

“Yes, exactly.”

“I propose that you tell Francis that. Communication is extremely important, and we have noticed that sometimes you don't communicate.”

“I do.” Arthur crosses his arms, and Ludwig's lips seem to curl upwards a little at this.

“With words. Not everyone pays attention to the small indicators; some people need words, or they won't understand our limits.”

“My son is like that.” Arthur muses aloud, and Ludwig gives him a pointed look.

“And so is Francis.”

.

The first confirmation ceremony is here. All the couples had their honeymoons and will meet each other in a lavish dinner before talking with the specialist as a couple and reaffirming their vows.

When Arthur and Francis enter the room, half of the couples are already in the room, but that doesn't seem to intimidate Francis, who quickly initiates contact with them, his smile wide as he presents himself and Arthur, and they seem to welcome him easily as he talks, but Arthur simply looks at them, a scowl in place as he observes and stays a little to the side, and the specialists shake their heads at the display.

“When one is as open and easygoing as Francis, it's effortless to navigate social situations, draw people in, and steal the spotlight, sometimes without even meaning to. Arthur, on the other hand, needs time to open up and feel safe. He’s not necessarily antisocial, but he approaches interactions with caution, preferring to observe before engaging.” Erzsébet tells Laura and the audience.

“This difference can cause tension; Francis may see Arthur as distant, while Arthur may find Francis overwhelming. However, they can also complement each other. The key here is for Francis to give Arthur space to engage at his own pace and for Arthur to see that Francis’ social nature isn’t a rejection; it’s just how he connects.” She presses as they keep watching Arthur closing in on himself even when Francis looks at him and gives him small smiles.

There are six couples in total, four heterosexual couples and two gay.

The heterosexual couples are divided into two young and two mature, all in between stages in the relationship, and the gay ones are clearly a little distant too as they present themselves.

“My name is Sadiq, and this is Heracles,” a tall, bearded, dark-skinned man says, and they nod before presenting themselves as Heracles speaks but keeps his distance.

Heracles is calm, steady, and a bit detached, while Sadiq is energetic, playful, and always on the move, and everyone can see Francis quickly engaging with the latter, finding things in common, as Arthur glares at the couple before Heracles starts a small, more subdued conversation with him that continues until Laura arrives and leads them to an elegantly set dinner table.

The seats have names, and unsurprisingly, the older couples sit in front of each other, the younger youngers following the motion as Laura makes the introductions and talks with them a little.

The atmosphere is warm and lively as the couples talk and trade stories, particularly their honeymoons that happened in all corners of the world.

“The sunset lit the water in orange tones as the gondola moved, and Arthur didn't enjoy the gondolier's voice, but I found it highly romantic. We also had dinner under the stars, the music low and intimate, candles and fire lights illuminating the table; ah, it was beautiful; no matter how I paint you the picture, it won't do it justice.” Francis sighs, a smile on his lips as Arthur quietly nurses his wine by his side.

“All that romance sounds like a lot of effort.” Sadiq says with a smirk, and Francis places a hand over his heart in mock offense.

"Effort? Mon dieu, love should always be an art form.” He says, holding his glass to him with a wink, “You, my friend, simply lack a romantic vision."

"Nah, I just like to keep things fun. Too much romance, and you start drowning in it." Sadiq chuckles, shaking his head and flashing Francis a teasing grin. "Bet you’re the type to whisper poetry while cooking breakfast."

Francis laughs, but not one to back down, leans in slightly and raises his eyebrow, “Would you prefer I whisper in your ear instead?"

His voice is smooth, playful, suggestive, and not serious, but Arthur pauses mid-drink, his grip on the glass tightening as he glances at them. 

“Careful, Francis, keep talking like that and people might think you regret your match." Sadiq laughs, and Francis waves a hand dismissively.

"Oh, cheri, do not mistake appreciation for temptation. A man can recognize beauty without betraying his own commitments." He nods, and Arthur's glass slams down the table, bringing all eyes to them.

"Right. Because nothing says commitment like flirting across the table." Arthur's clipped tone catches Francis's attention, and Francis blinks at him, tilting his head, teasing demeanor shifting to something more subdued.

“Cher, it was just a bit of fun.” Francis says, and Arthur’s jaw tightens, but he doesn't reply as he picks up his fork and stabs a piece of food.

“Hey now, don’t fight over me. There’s enough of me to go around.” Sadiq, ever the chaos-lover, grins between them, and Francis gives a measured laugh, eyes flickering towards Arthur.

“If I wanted to flirt with someone properly, you'd know it.”

Arthur's eyebrows almost make a line as he brings the food to his mouth, and Francis sits back and shifts his focus into eating and listening to the conversations around them instead of being the center of them.

The specialists trade a look, and Erzsébet raises his shoulders and drops them as she speaks.

“For Sadiq, who's a type 7, this is just lighthearted fun without consequence. He enjoys the playful energy but doesn’t attach deeper meaning to it. For Francis, flirtation is also harmless, but in a different way—it’s an expression of charm, connection, and emotional engagement, not a sign of disloyalty. Heracles didn't care much because as a type 9, he likely sees it as just conversation, nothing worth overanalyzing; however, for Arthur, the moment feels more significant. While others see casual banter, Arthur sees a potential threat, not necessarily out of jealousy toward Sadiq, but because it reinforces his fear of instability and highlights how different he is from Francis.”

.

The first couple says they stay easily despite their fights, the second wanting to leave but giving the experience another try, and now it's Arthur and Francis's turn as they sit side by side but with a reasonable distance on the couch, a tension that grew during the dinner and is simmering within.

“Everything has been more or less peaceful between you two. Honestly, we’re a bit surprised by how smoothly things have gone. There haven’t been many disagreements or clashes in terms of habits, which is unusual. It’s normal for couples, especially ones who don’t know each other well, to struggle with differences, whether it’s about how they enjoy vacations, morning routines, or just day-to-day reactions.” Erzsébet states, and they give pleased smiles as Francis shifts closer to Arthur.

“Well, I have been in London for a while. Matthieu’s mother lived near Dover, so all of his friends were here, and I didn’t want him to lose everything familiar so suddenly… so I guess that helps.” 

“That’s admirable. I’m sure you had to sacrifice a lot.” she says, and he waves her off as Arthur looks at him, looking less stiff.

“Not at all. My best friends moved to England with me, so the cultural shock wasn’t as hard as it could have been.” he admits with a small shrug.

“And what about you, Arthur? Have you found many difficulties?” she shifts the focus, and Arthur licks his lips and clears his throat before speaking, a clear sign of nervousness.

“Some. Francis has a tendency to cross certain boundaries, but we’ve talked about it.”

“Which boundaries?” she asks.

“He’s always touching me…”

“I’m a very tactile person. My friends don’t mind, but I know not everyone enjoys it, so I try to be mindful… Sometimes it just slips my mind.” Francis lightly chuckles, and Arthur nods, crossing his arms.

“That.” 

“It’s good that you’re having honest conversations about these things. Small issues like this can turn into bigger problems over time if left unspoken.” She says, and they nod.

“What about the honeymoon?” Matthias asks, and Arthur immediately says, “Fine” which leads to Francis giving him a glance before nodding along.

“It was beautiful. Venice is truly romantic; it's a shame we were only there for just three days.”

“It doesn't look like it was fine.” he presses, and Francis crosses his legs before admitting.

“We have trouble agreeing on anything.” Francis says, crossing his legs as Arthur nods alongside.

“You're together because your core values are in alignment. It may not seem like it right now because you're both very reactive and trying to protect your own self, but this is normal, and if you give it an honest chance, you'll see this is just a small bump on the road.” Matthias says, and they trade a glance.

“And besides those moments, did you enjoy each other's company?” Ludwig asks, and both hesitantly nod.

“ Oui .”

“Yes, I guess.”

“Let's just keep in mind that we have to give each other space, be patient, and do our best to open ourselves a little if we want this to work.” Erzsébet says, and both nod once more.

“What did you write in your confirmation, stay or leave?” Mathias asks, and they show their cards.

Both say stay but when they sit back on the large couch once again they keep their distance.